Stuart
by postcardfromsomewhere
Summary: An UNOFFICIAL companion  -I use that term loosely-  to CP Coulter's "Dalton", in which "Dalton" is Derek-centric and is told from a Stuart boarders eyes. Please Read and Review!
1. Warm Ups

**Author's Note: **Hi everyone, my name is Raven, and this, is a little baby that I like to call Stuart. It's based completely off of CP Coulter's Dalton. Which I suggest you read before you read this. This story came to me one day, and at first, it was the happenings in Dalton, but told from a Stuart's POV. Now, it is _much_ more than that. It is Derek, it is his row team, and it is his life. And I sincerely hope you endure this journey that I take with him, cuz it's going to be awesome.

And, I'd like to take the time to thank a very special person, and I'm not sure if she wants to be known, but I'll call her L, just in case. L, I don't know what I would have done without you. You helped me develop my characters, you listened when I was unsure of what to do, and how to develop this story. You took my frantic asks 'till almost 3 in the morning. I don't know about you, but to me, that kind of dedication deserves recognition. You may not say this isn't yours, but it is yours as much as it is mine, and these boys are running around in my head as much has they are taking over yours. I am so thankful I have you as my co-pilot on this crazy ride. I thank you, and my boys thank you. **So** much, you really don't know how much you have helped me. All I can show you is my gratitude. Mwah! ~

_Disclaimer: I don't own Dalton, or CP's characters, and I do not own Glee. The only thing I own are my own characters._

* * *

><p><strong>Stuart<strong>

**Chapter One: Warm-Ups**

"…The fuck was that about – _another_ exam? I only just finished selling my soul to the devil to study for the one we just had. I swear, if I don't get at least a ninety-seven percent on this one… " Derek Seigerson muttered threateningly as he exited his French class.

"I'm sure it won't be that bad for you." Derek looked to the side and saw his fellow crew teammate Cal Morrel, a Stuart and his substitute wingman when Julian and Logan failed to suffice. Unlike Julian and Logan, Cal was relatively good-natured and easy to talk to and right now, after that grueling test, the all-nighter Derek had pulled studying for it, and his issues with the senator's son, he was also the breath of fresh air Derek needed. He smirked up at Cal, who was a few inches taller than Derek, as they walked down to the locker room together.

"It probably wouldn't be that bad if Madame Saint-Clair didn't put nearly _impossible_ verb conjugates on the next exam, when it's only two days away." Derek explained, putting the pen he had put behind his ear into his bag.

"I'm pretty sure my brain is still partially unharmed. I might still have some cells left up there." Cal said thoughtfully, running a hand through his light brown hair.

Derek shrugged, and grunted when he felt a light push on his back. He turned to look at where it came from, and rolled his eyes as he saw a taller boy with black hair prance his was over to a group of students at the end of the hallway. He noticed this group of boys as Windsor boarders—a group of kids Derek was obligated to dislike, due to the fact that he was a Stuart boarder.

The Stuart-Windsor rivalry dated as far back as Derek's father's time when he attended Dalton Academy—probably even more dated than that. Derek wasn't entirely sure what actually started the house war; all he knew was that the competition between the two houses was endless. He felt it was his responsibility as the captain of _two_ sports teams to make sure his house was always recognized as having the best players on said teams. And that's how the competition purely used to be; houses fighting against other houses. But ever since Derek was a freshman, the rivalry had gotten a great deal more personal and he was taught by the upperclassmen to dislike not just Windsor house in general, but also the people in the house. And it wasn't hard to do that, not when the Windsor's were so loud and obnoxious that they reminded Derek of screaming toddlers with too much sugar.

The boy that had pushed him was Wesley Hughes, and while Derek didn't particularly mind him (he was okay as far as Windsors went), he didn't go out of his way to make nice with him, either. He watched as the oriental-skinned boy and David, a darker boy with a dancer's body, talked animatedly with the rest of the group. He scowled slightly at them as his eyes scanned the other two boys. He first caught sight of the short, compact Blaine Anderson and Derek, with good reason, couldn't help but shudder at the prospect of him.

Blaine Anderson and Logan Wright, Derek's best friend, had dated the year before. Derek had never particularly liked Blaine, but he was a Windsor, so it was mostly just the bad blood between houses that shaped his initial opinion of the hobbit." But when they started dating, he made sure to watch what he said about him around Logan. In fact, he made sure he didn't bring the subject up at all, because he knew in the end it would just wage a war with his best friend, who was so nauseatingly smitten with the Windsor boy. So he kept his distance. He stayed as far away as he could until _that _day. The day Logan's world literally came crashing down on him. One thing led to another—fights ensued, things were broken, and Logan was expelled, leaving Derek to pick up the pieces. He had a good reason—a _very_ good reason now—for disliking Blaine.

This left another boy for Derek to silently judge, but when his eyes rested on the petite, fragile looking boy, his eyes softened, realizing he didn't recognize him. He cocked his head to the side and continued to watch him. He was standing with his hands on his hips, the boy's pink lips were pursed, and his dark hair was gelled back meticulously. Derek noticed that it almost resembled that of Blaine's gelled back black curls. He continued to glare at the pair, watching as Kurt lightly put his arm on Blaine's.

_Yup, definitely gay._

He lost his train of thought when he was being ushered down the hallway by other students coming out of the class room, and he immediately shook his head and continued to follow Cal out down the hallway.

"So what are we doing in practice today?" Cal asked him, forcing Derek to come out of his thoughts.

"It's Friday. So we're running the course."

Cal nodded, "Alright, good. We need the run; the guys keep increasing their mile times. If we want to win the next Regatta, they have to make sure—"

"—That their mile times are consistently under their goal times," Derek finished, rolling his eyes slightly. "Yeah, I know. I just think they are being lazy asses. They can do it, they just don't want to."

Cal grinned evilly, an idea sparking in his mind, "Should we go barbarian on them?"

Derek snorted, "How? By making them run even _more_? Sorry, but I don't think that's a good idea with the Regatta coming up. We want them to be energized, not completely famished."

Cal considered this, looking a bit disappointed and asked, "So what are we going to do then?"

"We'll just have to tell them to get their shit together. If they don't, we'll lose. I know it's simple, but they want to win just as much as we do. Trust me—Madden did the same thing to us when we were freshman, remember?"

Cal smiled slightly at the memory of their old graduated captain. Madden Tierney was one of the best rowers Dalton Academy had ever seen, sending the team to win national titles his two years as captain. As a captain, Derek looked up to him immensely, as did Cal as co-captain. And Derek almost mirrored Madden's captaining techniques, but he didn't have the patience that Madden did—something which Derek feared would later cost him greatly. He tried though. Honest to god tried to keep his temper and keep the boys in line. But it was a thin line to walk anyway—he couldn't be too lenient and forgiving or else the boys would think he was soft. And he couldn't be too harsh and impatient, or they'd kill themselves before the Regatta even arrived.

The boys continued to discuss training tactics when they heard a voice calling them from behind,

"Derek, Cal, wait up!" The boys turned around and saw Nate Kapp—or Kappa, as he likes to be called—with his mop of blonde hair walking frantically towards then. Cal's eyes grew wide and his face broke into one of the goofiest grin Derek had ever seen as he watched his best friend become more exasperated with every step he took. Derek just took a deep breath as he waited for Kappa to reach them. Once he did, Kappa shook a 14 page term paper at them in frustration, his light brown hair shaking in tune with his body, his brown eyes filling with aggravation.

"This paper—I have been _slaving_ over it—for weeks. And now Professor Murdoch wants to meet with me to discuss it." Kappa said breathlessly, clutching the paper so hard his knuckles were turning white.

Derek's look of amusement turned to confusion, "I thought that wasn't due for another few days?"

Kappa shook his head, "Maybe for you, but he hates my class. It's full of kids from Windsor, and you _know_ he doesn't like them," Derek and Call nodded in agreement—Derek couldn't suppress a snicker of amusement—and Kappa continued, "—so we have the earliest deadline. All because of Windsors! Anyway, I need to go and meet with him, like, four minutes ago. So I'm going to be late for practice. Sorry, Derek," Cal winced and shrugged helplessly.

Cal nodded, but Derek was not so forgiving. He rolled his eyes at Kappa, "Make sure he doesn't take up too much of your time. We have a Regatta coming up—we all need all of the training we can get."

"Don't worry; I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll catch up with you guys!" With that, and a rather frantic wave, Kappa fled from the pair, still clutching his paper as if it would be the death of him.

Cal noticed Derek's slightly uneasy demeanor, "It's alright Seigerson, relax. He's one of our best rowers. No worries." Derek shoulders fell slowly at Cal's casual tone, as if a bit of pressure was off of him.

Being Kappa's best friend, Cal did know him best. They grew up together, and they were naturally attached at the hip. Derek regarded the two friends as the closest a pair of boys could get without wanting to throw each other's clothes off. They had an epic "bromance," as he would call it. And while Derek most of the time found it amusing, even at times endearing, he sometimes wanted to vomit at the sight of them.

Derek nodded when he noticed Cal smile at him, and they endured the last stretch of hallway that led to the locker room. As Cal opened the large door that led into the boys' locker room, the loud eruption of noise became incredibly louder and quite audible.

He took a deep breath as he knew the sound could only be coming from his teammates. As they approached the boys, he saw that they were all laughing at something Rodney Copeland, a shorter dark boy with a wide smile, was saying. Cal looked over to Derek, who loudly cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. The other boys in the locker room went silent when they turned and saw Derek standing at the door, with a look of annoyance on his face. The looked down in shame and mumbled their apologies.

Rodney however, continued to speak as if the other teammates weren't intimidated by Derek's presence, "_Like_ I was saying, I am so ready to get it on down in Lima Heights tonight!"

Grayson, a tall boy with golden blonde hair and dark eyes, stood up from the bench he was sitting on, his large muscles becoming apparent as he draped a shirt over his head, "You're going there _again_? You do realize every time you go there you either get rejected or mugged—how many times do we have to go over this?"

"Also, consider the fact that you never get _any_ from this girl when you do go there." Derek turned his head after opening his varsity locker to see Burke Watson patting Rodney sympathetically on the shoulder, his raven hair falling slightly into his hazel eyes as he did so. Derek laughed at his comment and took off his blazer and tie, watching the interaction, which was also gaining Cal's interest.

Rodney smirked at the attention and announced, "It'll all be worth it boys. I'm telling you—she's a _freak_. Everyone knows it; it's just a matter of time before I get some."

"And I'm telling _you_, it's not going to happen tonight." Grayson muttered, putting a sweatband on his forehead.

"'Wanna bet, Brody?" Rodney smacked the back of Grayson's neck and at the sound of his surname, Grayson growled. He turned around swiftly and hit Rodney on the top of his head. This in turn caused Rodney to lift his fist and aim for Grayson's abdominals, but Derek caught sight of this,

"Knock it off, dipshits!" He said threateningly, and he smiled smugly as the two boys lowered their fists at Derek's demand. Grayson patted Rodney's back apologetically and walked back to his own locker to continue changing. Rodney sat on the bench, grabbing his sneakers and socks. He smirked and turned his attention to Derek,

"If anyone is a playboy, it's this guy. So what about you, Seigerson? Are you still hooking up with that one chick?"

"_Which _girl are you talking about? You know Seigerson; he never sticks to just one." The other boys in the room turned to the doorway and saw Kappa, who had just walked in, smirking at Derek.

"Aren't you trying to go after that one chick— the one who is dating a Warbler from Windsor—? Hot cheerleader from St. Patrick's…?" Grayson asked.

"Hell if I know who she's dating, I don't associate myself with Windsors." Derek said, his eyes narrowing as he heard a few groans from the back of the locker room.

Turning his head, he caught sight of Andrew and Theodore, the two Hanover boarders that were on the Row and Crew team.

"What?" Derek rolled his eyes at the two and their disapproving looks. "I'm not going to apologize for disliking the Windsor's. Just because you Hanovers over there are Switzerland doesn't mean I have to watch what I say about them," Derek spat.

Theodore, the only freshman on the team, shook his head fiercely, "No, it's not that, it's just—it gets tiring."

"Well get over it. I know you're new and a freshman, but the rivalry isn't going anywhere." Derek said, slamming his locker shut, holding his sneakers in one hand and his water bottle in another. "You Hanovers have fun in your meadow of rainbows and fluffy bunnies, but don't delude yourselves. Windsors hate Stuarts, Stuarts hate Windsors. And that is never going to change."

Andrew sighed sadly and nodded forward to Theodore as he lifted his running shoes from the bench. But Jon, a tall, dark-haired boy with sharp blue eyes snapped,

"Whatever. Can we get to practice, already?"

Derek took another deep breath as he watched Jon walk briskly out of the locker room, not bothering to wait for Derek to respond.

Cal approached Derek and ordered the team to follow them out to the running course. As they walked, Cal whispered to Derek, "Sometimes, I really think Jon's Olympic training bullshit goes to his already big head."

Derek snorted in complete agreement and hummed in response. Jon Eagen, the only other Hanover, was easily one of the better acquainted rowers on the team; having been training for the Olympic Row team since before he had even started high school. Derek knew that Jon envied him and Cal for being captains. Jon had the skill, but since Olympic training had him out of school and practice for weeks at a time, Coach Sped felt it was only fair he give the position to other teammates who were more dedicated. Jon understood, but his jealousy shined through whenever either captain had to act their part—which was _all _of the time.

Derek looked to Cal and changed the subject, "Do you have the time sheets?"

"Oh, uh—yeah I do," Cal reached into his pocket and handed the folded over paper to Derek, who began to read it as he and his teammates approached the course. Jon was already there, stretching out his legs.

"So, are we gunna do this, chief?" He asked with a challenging eyebrow raise, pleased when it got him a glare from Derek.

Derek grinded his teeth, but took a deep breath and straightened up as the other boys formed a semi-circle around himself and Cal.

"We're running this course to beat our goal times that I have here on this sheet." Derek announced, holding up the sheet, "If you beat it, that's great, but if one person doesn't beat their time, we all have to run it again. Clear? So don't be the slacker who pisses on everybody's parade."

The boys, looking uninterested, simply nodded and walked over to the beginning of the course. Derek sighed at their reaction—Fridays always proved to be a lazy day and it was as annoying as hell—and looked to Cal, who simply grinned. No matter the attitudes of the boys, Cal always seemed to be smiling about something. His co-captain squeezed his shoulder and dragged him to the beginning of the course.

Derek looked ahead past Cal and let out a sigh of relief as he saw nothing but the branches of the leafless trees. He always enjoyed running in wooded areas—it helped him escape his own reality. The trees, to Derek, were almost like another world. They took him from his life and relaxed him. The sound of the tree leaves brushing up against each other was soothing to him, and for as long as he could remember, he made it a point to run on windy days just so he could hear the leaves move with the wind. Whenever he was having a bad day, or just needed to escape from life, he ran, because the trees never went anywhere, and their calming sounds were always at hand when he needed it.

He heard Cal blow the whistle, and Derek took off at a fast pace. He felt his feet hit the ground in rhythmic movement, eventually attaining a steady pace. He began to pump his arms back and forth so he could gain speed.

And he just ran.

And he continued to run. He ran away from everything that scared him, from every expectation he was afraid he wouldn't live up to. He ran from the thoughts of his parents, who expected him to be the best at everything he tried. Who were always telling him he could do better. Who implied nothing he did would ever be good enough. Who told him he _had_ to do better, even when he thought he had done the best he could. He ran from his adorable little sister, who he hated more than anything to leave behind. He ran from the sight of her tears when they said good-bye before he went away to school.

He ran from the thoughts of his professors, who didn't give him the encouragement he strived for.

He ran from the friends whom he had to look after and keep in line. Who he sometimes felt he could never live up to.

He ran from the thoughts of his coach, who pushed him to be the best he could be, even when he thought—goddamnit, _knew_—he wasn't. He ran from his position as captain – from his teammate's jealousy, anger, respect, and kindness towards him.

If running was going to be his escape, he needed to run from everything that had ever come into his life. And that's exactly what he did.

Derek moaned as he saw smaller figures reach the end of the course. When the end of the course was becoming more apparent in view, Derek felt his reality crash into him. His thoughts began rushing to his brain at a mile a minute, catching up with him, and he couldn't eradicate them as much as he tried:

_I need to make sure Logan takes his medication tonight—_

_Where the hell is Julian now?—_

_I should probably call Amanda soon. Her first day back to school must have been hard—_

_Professor Ayer's Stat test is tomorrow, I need to study—_

He noticed the two figures as Jon and Andrew as he dashed the final stretch of the course. The two boys were looking at the timesheet and their wrist watches with grim looks on their faces.

"Seigerson didn't make his time." Derek heard Andrew say.

_Fuck._

Derek slowed his pace once he crossed the finish line, and stopped a bit after Jon and Andrew. He walked over to them with his hands behind his hair, letting the oxygen flow and regulate his lungs.

"Let me see the sheet!" Derek demanded, holding his hand out to the two boys. Andrew nodded and passed the sheet to him.

"I know my last time was 6:07," Derek muttered to himself, "I _know_ I beat that – What was my time?" He turned to Andrew, growing impatient with every second that passed.

Andrew looked down at his stop watch and sighed, "6:09."

"Damn it!" Derek threw the sheet down in frustration and stormed off a bit, walking away from the pair. He picked up his water bottle that was sitting nearby on the ground and took a swig of it, gulping half of it down his throat, half-hoping he'd drown in it. He muttered curse words under his breath as he watched the remainder of his teammates come back from their run. He sighed as he stalked over to the boys who were all slowly walking with their hands over their heads.

When he approached, the other boys formed a semi-circle around Cal. Derek stood next to him and Cal looked to the group crowded around him,

"So how'd we do boys?"

Jon scoffed, "Why don't you ask Derek?"

Derek glanced at Jon with cold eyes. Jon however stood his ground and glared back, a sneer placed on his lips. He had beaten his time by a good amount and he was definitely not shy about it. Fuck, what Derek wouldn't give to punch him in his mouth.

Cal gave a questioning look to Derek, who shamefully muttered, "I missed my time by two seconds."

The rest of the team groaned, but nonetheless, they retreated back to the beginning of the course and started stretching.

Jon looked over at them in disbelief, "Are you freakin' kidding me? We seriously have to do this _again_?"

Derek's eyes averted sharply to Jon, "Yes, we do." He snapped. "And you have to beat your _new _time this round, so you better start stretching."

"Just because you didn't make your time, doesn't mean we all have to suffer for it." Jon spat as his eyebrows narrowed. He watched as Derek stormed up to him, his face only mere inches from his, and he spoke in a deep, hushed voice,

"Those are the rules – If one man doesn't finish, then we all do it over. This is a team, _Olympics_. Man up."

Jon's nostrils flared, and he pushed Derek away from him. Jon rolled his eyes and stormed over to where his other teammates were watching the spectacle and stood by them.

Derek turned back to Cal, who was now closer to him than before, "I don't know if you should have done that." Cal murmured to him.

Derek only shrugged, "You're too nice, Morrell. He needs to be talked to like that. He needs to respect the rules—and us."

Cal smiled slightly and shook his head, "Always the bad cop, aren't you?"

Derek grinned, "Someone has to be."

* * *

><p>"Seigerson!"<p>

Derek emerged from the locker room, his dark hair still damp from the shower and his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He looked up and saw his coach, Sped, walking towards him.

Derek smiled slightly and walked over to him, noticing that Coach Sped's thick dark hair was hidden under a sailing cap. He was wearing bright boating shoes and plaid shorts, which was very different from the normal sweat suit-like attire that he wore. Derek smirked as his eyes met the pale pink polo he was sporting, and Coach Sped noticed,

"Wipe the look, Derek." He looked down at his polo and straightened it out.

"Do you see what you're wearing right now Sped? I mean, I know _I _can pull off the look, but you, of all people – "

"I said drop it." Derek noticed Sped's harsh look and shut up immediately. Derek wasn't normally intimidated by anyone, but Coach Sped was perhaps one of the most daunting people he had ever encountered.

Derek muttered an apology, "Sorry…so what's up?"

Sped pointed towards his office, which was down the hallway, "Come with me." He said with a hint of impatience in his voice.

Derek's stomach flipped over twice as he followed Sped down the corridor. _What did I do?_

Sped unlocked his office door and swung it open, allowing Derek to walk in first and sit down in the large plush chair that sat before a grand oak desk. Derek glanced around the room as Sped closed the door, his eyes catching the light of the many trophies displayed on the glass shelves on the walls. He searched for his own trophies and smiled as he saw the few that bore his name along with Cal's as MVP for the past two years. They always looked the shiniest to Derek, but hey, he was bias.

Sped sat down in front of Derek and folded his hands on the desk, giving him an intense look.

"Have you thought about scholarships, Derek?"

Derek sighed. _Here we go. _"No, I haven't. It's just the beginning of the season, Coach."

"Never too early, as I always say." Sped said, leaning forward.

"I guess, but, I don't think I should really be worrying about that right now with the Regatta coming up – "

" – That should give you more of a reason to worry about it. Colleges look for kids like you, Derek. Kids who are strong leaders, who don't let their personal lives get in the way of their performance on the water. They are looking for _you._ You need to be ready."

"Okay," He gave in and bit his lip, "So what do I have to do?"

"Make sure we win the Regatta in two weeks. As a Stroke, you have to communicate with Cal and make sure that boat is balanced, and make sure the boys get their heads out of there you-know-what's!"

Derek nodded, understanding his concern. While Derek grasped that the Dalton Academy Crew Team was one of the best in the state, he also knew that his teammates could be a bit on the undetermined side. He knew he had a talented group of boys on the team, but sometimes the team's enthusiasm matched that of an envelope stuffer. This was the Coach's way of telling him to inspire them and get them working. The problem was that Derek didn't know how. The boys were stubborn and wild and all had their own styles of learning and he was just one guy. Why wasn't Cal in here too? He was co-captain.

Derek ran a frustrated hand through his hair, but smiled to hide the tension he was sure was raging in his eyes, "I'll do my best, Sped."

Sped nodded, "You better, otherwise we'll be sure to not qualify in the next Regatta. It's all on you kid, I'm counting on you."

Derek stood up and shook the hand that Sped held out to him_. _"No problem sir, I can do this."

"That's what I like to hear. I'll see you tomorrow bright and early – we're going out on the water, and it's going to be cold, so dress appropriately."

Derek nodded again and left Sped's office, slamming the door shut behind him. He felt his pulse rise and his palms being to sweat as he walked down the hallway, out of the building and towards Stuart, where he was sure his night was only just starting. He had so much work to get done. And there were not enough hours in the day to do it.

* * *

><p>"Seriously Derek, where have you been?"<p>

_And so it begins._ Derek had barely walked into the house when Logan came out from behind the door. He looked extremely pissed off if his crossed arms and the fire in his eyes were any indication.

"I had practice, Logan. You should know that." Derek said breathlessly.

"I sure didn't forget," Logan sneered, "But _you_ must have forgotten that you invited one of your pathetic excuses for a girlfriend over—because she's been sitting in the Common Room for _fifteen_ minutes!"

Derek's eyes widened as he peered over Logan's shoulder and into the dim-lit Common Room, where he saw an absolutely gorgeous, yet livid girl sitting on the couch, her short legs crossed and her arms tight at her sides. Her long wavy brown hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and she was all dressed up—were they going on a date or something?—and she wasn't Dobry—

_Crap. Spit it out, Derek. Come on, you know her name. _Derek whispered to Logan, "How did she even get in? There's a rule about girls in the dorm—"

"Don't you think I know that?" Logan snarled. "I told her she had to leave, and she went ape shit on me! You'd think for such a petite girl, she'd be no problem—but _boy_ was I wrong," He exclaimed and shook his head, "You need to get her out—"

"Okay—"

"NOW."

Derek nodded quickly and walked over to the couches, his voice becoming low and soft to ease her anger, "H—Hey babe."

The girl's head shot up and she scowled, wiping some hair out of her face "Nice of _you_ to finally show up."

Derek put on a charming smile, "I didn't know—"

"How could you NOT know, Derek? We made these plans weeks ago! You promised me we would go out!" She exclaimed, slamming her tiny fist onto the couch.

"Listen, baby—" He grabbed her wrist lightly and squeezed it, rubbing circles with his thumb.

"DON'T call me that!" The girl snapped, ripping her wrist out of his grasp. He took a deep breath and looked down at her,

"What do you want me to do? I got out of practice late and—"

"WELL THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE CALLED!"

"Keep your voice down—"

"I WILL DO WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT!"

"You're not even supposed to be here—"

"WELL HOW ELSE WAS I SUPPOSED TO GET A HOLD OF YOU?"

"Well, _calling_ is always a good place to start – " Derek muttered, slowly growing more and more irritated.

"What was that?" She glared, her breathing was intense and her lips were quivering.

Oh shit. "I didn't say anything – "

"Are you calling me stupid?" Her eyes grew wide at the accusation, and narrowed at Derek stumbling over his words,

"What? No! Of course not – "

She shook her head, fuming, as she screamed, "FORGET YOU, DEREK! We are done!"

With that, she fled from Derek's sight and stormed out of the door Logan was holding open for her. She huffed at him and he slammed the door shut behind her, wiping his hands off as if he had dirt on them.

He turned to Derek, who gave him an apologetic yet amused look, "Sorry, Lo."

He smirked, "Damn right," He looked at the door, feeling the ghost of the girl's anger looming in the air, "So who _was_ that?"

Derek shrugged, "Beats me. I blanked on her name."

Logan laughed heartily, "You've got to be kidding me."

"Wish I was Logan, I wish I was." He smiled at his friend as he ran his hand through his hair.

Logan grinned at his friends' carelessness, "How many does that leave you with now, then? three, four girlfriends you're at now?"

Derek exhaled proudly, "Yep! And the number will just keep increasing, just watch."

"How you don't have any diseases is still beyond my comprehension." Logan mumbled.

"What can I say; I was blessed with good looks and luck. The fates are on my side."

Logan rolled his eyes, "Oh my god," He said in disbelief.

Derek beamed, "My God, too."

Logan laughed and Derek started to head up the stairs. He turned around as an afterthought,

"Did you take your medication?"

Logan's fading yet lingering smile turned to an immediate scowl, "No, I did not."

"Take them, Logan. You need to. You know what the doctors said—"

"I don't care what they said. Those doctors were recommended by my father. They were probably all paid to prescribe me those pills to shut me up."

"If you don't take it, you know I will force you to take it. Don't make me get the entire house involved again. You know what happened last time—"

Logan held up his hand at the memory, shuddering as he said, "Fine. I'll take them. Jesus."

Derek nodded his head and headed back up the stairs. When he reached the top and rounded the corner towards his single room, he caught sight of Rodney and Grayson hanging outside of their bedroom doors. The boys were watching him walk down to his room with visible and irritating smirks on their faces.

Derek raised his eyebrows at them quizzically, "Can I help you?"

"Mmm, we were just enjoying your little show. Losing your touch, Seigerson?" Rodney questioned suggestively, leaning against his closed door.

Derek laughed indifferently, "Says the guy who can't even _get_ touched," He glanced over to Grayson, who was doubled over in laughter and smiled at him,

"Grayson," He nodded, "Always a pleasure." Grayson waved and continued to chortle as Rodney stood dumbfounded. He shook out his momentary stare and called back to Derek,

"Hey! At least I still have a girl!"

Derek turned around before he opened his door, smiling with sarcastic sweetness, "They don't call me, "Dalton's playboy" over at Dobry for nothing, Rod!"

Derek opened his door and slammed it shut, not bothering to care about the argument between Grayson and Rodney that was taking place out in the hall.

He settled into his desk chair and pulled his laptop and textbooks, preparing himself for a Friday night full of coursework and studying, momentarily distracting him from the million other obligations he had to fill.

Just as he was finishing up the standard deviation for his Statistics homework, he heard his phone ring. He picked it up to see a text from Logan,

_It's past quiet hours. Get your Crew boys to shut up or I will. And I didn't take my meds yet. So keep that in mind when deciding if you want them to live to see tomorrow or not._

Derek grumbled and rolled his eyes. He got up from his chair and walked to his door He opened it, poking his head out of the door. He indeed heard the massive noise in the form of rap music coming from a few of his teammates' dorm rooms. He took a deep breath and called out,

"If the Crew team doesn't keep quiet, I'm ordering a double session tomorrow AND Sunday!"

When the team ignored his request, Derek took another deep breath to improve the quality of his yell, "AND I'll order weekend suspensions for _everyone_ for the rest of the season!"

Derek smirked as the hall immediately went dead silent.

"That's what I thought!" He closed his door quietly and looked back to the massiveness of homework he still had left to do.

He heard his phone ring again and smiled when he saw the text from Logan.

_Thanks. Go to sleep now._

Derek replied back quickly, _I'll sleep when you take your medication._

_Fuck you, Derek._

_Good night, Logan._

Derek then tossed his phone deep into his pile of dirty laundry and went back to his desk, where he spent the rest of the night and some hours into the morning determined to get his work done.

* * *

><p>"—Derek Seigerson is going to have it coming to him one of these days, man."<p>

"Just breathe, Jon. Don't get so worked up."

"To HELL with that. What happened today was bullshit."

Jon Eagen paced around his dorm room frantically, muttering to himself as he did so. His casual dark hair was now sticking out in all different places, due to running his hands through it as an attempt to calm him down. His deep eyes were filled with fury and intensity. He looked to Andrew, whose long legs were propped up on his desk as he continued to take notes on Biology, casually glancing up now and again as Jon went off on one of his nightly rants. Being the roommate of the asshole on the Crew team sucked, especially on nights like these when all Jon could talk about was Derek. Sometimes Andrew thought he should be a Windsor for all the hate his roommate liked to spew about the Stuart.

Andrew only exhaled as he peered at Jon through his glasses, "It's the rules, Eagen."

Jon glared down at Andrew, his anger reaching great heights, "Since when have you cared about rules?" He asked darkly.

Andrew scowled, his blood boiling a bit as past memories sprung back to him at the comment. He shook his head and his expression tightened, "I just think you're overacting. We only had to run it twice anyway and it's in the playbook—you don't leave a man behind. You need to get over it."

"But the way he spoke to me! Does he know who I am—"

"I think we _all_ do—" Andrew muttered under his breath.

"I could row laps around that jackass," Jon preached, oblivious to Andrew's remark, "He can't treat me like that in front of the team."

Andrew lifted an eyebrow and barely contained a sarcastic comment of his own. He hated it when Jon got self-righteous. Sure, the boy was probably better than all of them—he was training for the Olympics—but that didn't give him the right to any special treatment or consideration from Seigerson. "Who cares?" He finally said, "He's the captain and you're _not._ Don't give him a hard time just because you didn't get what you want."

Andrew winced slightly as his words hit below the belt. Jon stopped pacing the moment they were out in the air, and his body tensed, jaw firm, while his dark blue eyes glossed over with instant hatred. Everyone on Crew knew Jon had a desire to be captain—and thought he deserved it—and they were under the impression he did not take getting looked over very well. Andrew slowly lowered his legs and searched his brain for some words that would do some damage control in this situation.

He didn't have to. Jon did not respond to him, instead rushing back to his desk to pull out a piece of paper and pen where he began to scribble something down very quickly.

Andrew watched him intently, still cautious and guarded "What are you doing?"

Jon grinned wickedly, "I'm going to make sure he doesn't get Captain next year. And you're going to help me."

Andrew pushed his glasses up to the top of his nose and scoffed, "Says who?"

Jon sneered, "Says me. I know about _you_, Noller. I know about everything. And I'm not afraid to expose you to everyone."

Andrew grew paler with every word his roommate spoke. His light eyes expanded as he let out a hallow breath and felt Jon's vindictive stare bear into him—it was like the boy was staring into every year of his life, every moment of his past, and then dangling it all in front of him. The lump in his throat grew and tightened as Jon walked closer and hovered over him. Andrew flinched as he approached, his heart beating out of nervousness.

"Well, why do you need _my_ help? H – how do you know it's going to work? You don't even know what you're going to do, right?" Andrew asked hopefully, as if he could somehow talk Jon out of his crazy mindset. Jon was silent.

Being his roommate, Andrew had seen the many different faces of Jon over the past few years, something no one else on Crew was privileged to see. Unlike all his teammates, Andrew had a better idea of who Jon as a person was and yeah, thought he was a pretentious gloat and resident jerk, but never thought he was cruel. But now there was something Andrew had never seen before. He had never seen Jon's passion as furious and malicious as it was at this moment. He observed uncertainly as Jon grimaced and walked away from him to the grand window that was placed in the middle of the room. He heard Jon take a deep breath and watched as his hands balled up into fists.

Andrew cringed when Jon turned around to face him, flashing Andrew a look. "Just trust me."

* * *

><p>Hope you liked it :D Please read and review it, and follow me on Tumblr! I love talking to people :D<p>

Love, Raven x


	2. Repetition

**Author's Note:** Ah, so here it is, the (I hope) long awaited second chapter of Stuart. I'm sorry it took a little while for it to come out—Lauryl and I just wanted it to be perfect. I'd just like to make something clear too—this story is what I'd like to consider a slight companion to Dalton, so after this chapter, there will be a lot of parallels to Dalton in 'Stuart'.

Anyway, as always, I'd like to thank my wonderful Beta Lauryl (storiesbycandlelight) for putting up with me and my crap writing at times, and for fixing my horrible mistakes, taking the time to understand these characters and having any type of vision for them like I do, and teaching me so many new things about writing. This story wouldn't be half as amazing if it weren't for you. You're the best cookie! Mwah! ~

The song used is the Glee Version of "Bella Notte" I don't own it.

_Disclaimer: I do not own Derek, Kurt, or Logan, or any of the concepts that are mentioned from CP Coulter's "Dalton." Or the hit TV show Glee. All characters either belong to CP, or Ryan Murphy and the rest of the RIB clan._

* * *

><p><strong>Stuart<strong>

**Chapter Two: Repetition**

The autumn morning was sharp and unforgiving. But the water was even worse.

Derek inhaled a sharp breath as he pushed the oar far out in front of him, feeling the cold air sweep through his lungs. He rolled his wrists as he felt the resistance the oar had when it collided with the water, smiling at the challenge of pushing past the force the water had on the oar.

Lean forward. Roll. Lean back. Push. Lean forward. Roll. Lean back. Push. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe.

Derek had always found rowing crew to be a simple sport—it consisted of mundane and repetitive movements. Being the already athletic guy that he was, it wasn't too hard to get the motions of rowing an oar down (which is why Sped took an immediate liking to him). He still remembered freshman year, and the first time he had ever even heard of 'Crew.'

"_Derek Seigerson!" Derek turned around nervously; somewhat surprised that someone at Dalton knew who he was, considering he had only been a student at the academy for less than a few weeks. _

_He was taken aback when he saw an older student in the customary Dalton uniform standing directly behind him. Even though Derek had only been at Dalton for a short time, he recognized the student as Madden Tierney, probably the most well-known athlete on campus. And since Derek aspired to reach his level of popularity, it was only natural that he immediately looked up to him. _

_The boy named Madden smiled at Derek and stuck out his hand, "I'm Madden Tierney, captain of the Crew team here at Dalton."_

"_Nice to meet you," Derek shook his hand firmly, refraining from saying too much as he didn't want to embarrass himself._

_Madden gave Derek a gracious look and he motioned to the hallway behind him, "Take a walk with me, Seigerson."_

_Derek shifted his eyes, clutching the straps of his backpack tight, "But I have class—"_

"—_It's alright. Once your teachers see you're with me, they'll reward you, not punish you. Now come on." Madden turned around and started to walk ahead, and Derek had to run a bit to keep up with him._

"_So I hear you're pretty good on the football field, eh?" Madden looked down at Derek when he appeared at his side, and he nodded in response. _

"_How do you feel about rowing crew for Dalton? We have one of the best teams in the nation, and it'll look great on a college resume." Madden continued, clearly trying to butter Derek up as a way to get him on the team._

_Derek gave Madden a questioning stare, cocking his head to the side. While he was thrilled that one of the older—heck, the best—student athlete on campus wanted him to be a part of the team, he had no clue what Crew actually was._

"_I appreciate the offer, but unfortunately, I don't know what Crew is." He looked down, utterly embarrassed at his lack of knowledge of the sport. He snapped his head up when he heard Madden laugh. _

"_That's alright. I didn't know what it was either until Sped showed me. You just have to have a good mile time, and have great upper body strength," Madden's voice lowered into a more serious tone, "I've seen you during football pre-season, Derek. You're very good. I think you'd make an excellent rower on our team—if you're interested of course." _

_Derek couldn't help himself as he nodded in acceptance. "That sounds awesome. I'm in."_

_Even though he was committed to the football team, Derek figured getting more involved wouldn't necessarily hurt his high school career. At that moment, he didn't really care about learning the sport—he knew that would be easy. To him, to be offered a spot on a team for a sport he knew nothing about, by the best athlete in the school was something he was damn proud of._

_Madden grinned at Derek before stopping at a large office door. "This is great. You won't be disappointed, I swear. But, before anything is official, you have to meet Sped."_

"_Who's Sped?"_

_Madden smirked as he opened the door and walked first into the office, taking a seat in a very comfortable looking chair that sat next to another chair in front of a large oak desk. The desk chair behind the oak desk was turned to face the massive trophy case that was filled with Dalton's many first place winnings and MVP titles. Madden straightened out his tie and motioned for Derek to sit in the empty chair next to him, and Derek obeyed, because quite frankly, he had no idea what else to do._

_Almost as if it were out of a movie, a tall man in a tracksuit turned around in the desk chair and leaned forward, leaning over the desk and crossing his arms,_

"_So you're Derek Seigerson?" The large man said bemusedly, his muscles flexing under his tight white t-shirt. _

_He tried to keep his cool, nodding swiftly and stuttering, "Yes sir, I am." Normally Derek wasn't intimidated by anyone, but Sped had a certain look about him that certainly didn't go unnoticed by Derek. The way Derek was being eyed by the coach made him feel barely bigger than a rabbit. And he felt like Sped was on the hunt. _

_Sped raised an eyebrow, "And Madden here thinks you'd be good for the crew team?"_

_Derek shrugged, and feigned confidence in the presence of such an intimidating man, "Suppose so. Though I've never heard of Crew until a few minutes ago."_

_Sped smirked and leaned back into his chair, giving Madden a skeptical glance, "Seriously? You bring me a rookie, Tierney?"_

_Madden folded his arms across his lap and nodded, "Yeah, I did. Trust me; you have to see this kid play. His endurance is incredible, sir." _

_Sped glanced back at Derek and leaned forward again, , "What's your mile time, boy?"_

_Derek smirked, "5:40, sir." Sped smiled in disbelief and looked to Madden, "You weren't kidding." He glanced back at Derek and sighed,_

"_You a good kid?"_

"_Uh, yeah. " _

"_You get good grades?"_

"_Only the best."_

"_Any history of drugs, alcohol, or juvenile detention?"_

"_No, no and no." _

"_You realize what this sport entails, right? You may think it'll be a walk in the park, but it's an ass—beating. I just want to make sure you know what you're signing up for. I don't want you crying to mommy and daddy because the sport is too 'hard'." Derek couldn't help but laugh at Sped's look of displeasure as he said this._

_Derek nodded in understanding, "I think I'll be able to handle it—nothing it too hard for me, sir." _

_Sped nodded to Derek, whose eyebrows were raised in amusement as he looked over to Madden. He felt slightly more comfortable now that he sensed the hard part was over._

_Madden gave Derek a comforting glance and Sped stuck out his hand, grinning from ear to ear, "Welcome to the team. Be prepared for hell, kid." _

Ever since then, Derek never looked back. True, Crew was not the hardest sport he had ever participated in, but it was his favorite. There was something about being on the water for Derek. Something empowering about each stroke that he took. With every single movement of his oar, he exerted tremendous control and force, and he felt like he had won a small war each time, pushing himself and his team farther forward, and the obstacles that challenged him back. Over the years, while the repetitive strokes had become easier, and Derek had grown stronger, he never lost his drive to conquer the water.

But he did have a greater challenge this year—

"Rodney, you're leaning too forward! You're making us unbalanced—again! You're supposed to be in tune with Derek!" Cal bellowed from the front of the boat, his knees pulled up towards his chest with his arms wrapped around them.

"Screw you, Cal!" Rodney called from the back as he turned his wrists, pulling his oar towards him.

Derek sighed at the confrontation, which was nothing new during morning practices.

Derek had to give Cal credit; while most of the Coxswains he met at other Regatta's had been nothing but a tyrant to their respective teams, Cal continued to be only the fairest of leaders in comparison, encouraging his teammates while they rowed and only giving harsh criticism when needed. Being a Cox entitled Cal to call all of the shots while rowing—almost like the captain of a ship, only without threatening to maim any body parts of the crew members (unless when really displeased with their performance).

And while Derek respected him and his censure while the team rowed, the other teammates sometimes didn't grasp what it meant to be a Cox, regarding it as the position that sat at the front of the boat and did nothing, while the rest of them busted their asses. Even that wasn't true—Cal steered the whole boat and that in itself was hard enough, without having to pay close attention to the movements of the other eight boys. But the rest of the team hardly gave that any thought.

Meaning, they hated anything but praise, which Cal wasn't afraid to point out.

"Jon, you're wrists aren't turning your oar properly!"

Derek could sense Jon heat with embarrassment from behind him, and he felt the boat shift slightly as Jon repositioned himself to get a better grip on his oar.

"Much better!" Cal nodded and looked behind Derek at the other teammates. He saw Cal shake his head and crane his neck to get a better view at the last two seats of the boat, and Derek could see the disappointment in his eyes as he called out,

"Burke! Come on, man! Push harder. You're not using any force back there!"

"I'm trying, Morrel." Burke said in a strained tone.

"Well try _harder_!" Cal shouted, and shook his head, bestowing a tired look toward Derek, a silent plea that screamed 'kill me now'.

Derek, as a stroke, was like the co-captain of the ship. While Cal called all of the shots, Derek had to make sure he was leading the boat with the correct movements. Everyone on the boat followed Derek's motions, and it was Derek's job to make sure he went at fast enough paces so that everyone could keep up. Because it was him that set the stride, he had to make sure it was fast enough to ensure the team a win.

It was a tall order, but Derek was determined to see it through. He refused to be the one to let his teammates down.

Derek looked back to Cal, who had taken off his sailing cap to run his hand over his sweaty forehead. Cal caught Derek's gaze,

"The price you pay for being a Cox, eh Seigerson?" Cal muttered and Derek managed to grunt in response, too busy concentrating on his breathing to really strike up much conversation. No matter the bullshit remarks Cal seemed to get from the team, he always took it in stride, and Derek admired that about him.

Derek continued his routine movements, slightly less focused now that another argument between Cal and Rodney had sprung up.

"Lean farther back, Copeland!"

"If I lean any farther I'll be all up in Andrew's junk!"

"Well that'd be the most ass you've gotten in the past two months, wouldn't it?"

Derek, who had been concentrating on his breathing, nearly doubled over in his sudden laughter at Cal's comment. The Coxswain grinned his easy smile and shot a vindictive look toward Rodney's direction, reveling in the defeat of the darker boy. His eyes shifted towards the shoreline, where he saw Sped walking closer to the shore, sporting his normal tracksuit attire. Derek exhaled in slight relief as this signaled that practice was over.

As much as he loved rowing Crew, Derek always found it somewhat liberating to be done for the day—especially with the physical toll the sport took on his body. And he could tell that the boys were all getting testy. Then again, they were always rather grumpy at the end of training, sometimes acting more like chicks on their periods.

Derek glanced up at Cal and slowed his movements, waving to him, "Sped's here, Cal."

Cal nodded. "Alright guys, loosen up your arms and jump in." He called to the boys as they stopped their strokes as they also noticed Sped had arrived.

Derek grinned and lifted off his shirt as did the rest of the boys, and he felt his muscles unravel themselves. While Derek loved the feeling of pulling and pushing his oars, taking a victory jump into the lake was his favorite part of practice. To him, it was a little reward he liked to give himself for all of the time and effort he put into the team, among other things.

From behind him, he could hear the whooping and cheering of his teammates and shook out his arms as he looked down at the crystal blue water of the Hoover Reservoir. He shivered as the splashes from Grayson's massive and typical cannonball dripped onto his skin. He glanced to his side and shared a triumphant look with Cal before he jumped in.

A shock jolted throughout his entire body, the water cold enough that it felt like an electrical current zipping through his bones, sending his hair on end. His body was frozen for just that split second, as the cold seeped into every inch of him, before he regained control and pushed himself up again, gasping for air. As soon as he did, he felt awake and refreshed. It was always an exhilarating experience and it never seemed to faze him in the slightest.

He shook his head to get the water out of his ears and saw most of the boys were back in the boat, ready to row to shore and clean out all the equipment. He sighed in defeat as his little reward was over and climbed back into the boat, rowing casually with the rest of the team back to shore.

Once the boys had reached the shore and cleaned out their boat, Derek led them to where Sped was standing, holding a clipboard, his sailing cap covering his eyes as he looked down, scribbling notes onto the diagram he was currently engaged in.

Sped looked up at the sound of the boys walking towards him He cleared his throat to get their attention, and they went silent as he spoke.

"You guys look pretty good out there—I am very proud. I think we actually have a good chance at winning that Regatta in two weeks, granted we fix the issues Cal was telling you about out on the water," He glanced knowingly at Rodney, who just rolled his eyes.

Sped continued, "So I'm giving you the day off tomorrow, but make good use of it. No dirt biking," He looked to Grayson, who frowned and pouted.

"And no blowing things—or yourself—up in the science lab," Everyone glanced to Andrew, who held up his hands in defense.

"What? It was one time!" Andrew squeaked, eyes wide and self-justifying.

Everyone rolled their eyes and groaned while Sped laughed, "Alright boys. Good job today, and see you all on Monday!"

The boys clapped and began to walk back to campus, slightly envying Sped as he jumped into his Jeep and drove back to campus, leaving the boys behind.

Derek picked up his sports bag as he passed it and slung it over his shoulder, turning his head as he heard Rodney walk towards him, talking to Grayson,

"…So we should all do something later. Lima Heights is so lame, and there are no parties going on over there—"

Grayson perked up, "Oh! I hear Cassie Berkeley is hosting a party. You know—that girl Tabitha's friend? Nice ass, real round…yeah! Anyway, it's at Cassie's house just a few miles from here. Most of us have cars, I'm sure we can carpool too…"

Rodney grinned at his best friend and nodded. Since he hadn't been getting laid in Lima Heights, he was excited to see Grayson give him another window of opportunity—he hadn't tried getting with any of the girls from St. Patrick's yet.

"That sounds awesome! Hey Derek," Rodney patted Derek on the shoulder, walking by his side, "There's a party at St. Patrick's. We're gunna try to get some of the other boys to go. You in?"

Derek grinned and his eyes widened with excitement. Since his fallout (for lack of a better word) with Casey, he had been meaning to get out and play the field a bit more, and this party was the perfect chance. He definitely needed a good party to unwind, and it had been a while (by his standards) since he got to have a little fun and hook up with someone.

"Hell yeah I'm in!" Derek high-fived Grayson and Rodney and the three of them continued their trek back to Stuart.

* * *

><p>"I am so excited to go to that party tonight!"<p>

Cal grinned at Kappa, who was bouncing off the walls of the dorm they shared. His best friend was ecstatic at the news that the team would be going out to a party. It was a rare occasion, as most of the boys were Stuart boarders and they spent most of their time hauled up in their dorm rooms or the library, studying for the next exam, revising their term papers or—hell, at practice.

Kappa leapt onto his bed and sighed, folding his arms behind his head, "I think this will be good for me—going out, I mean. I haven't really been dating since Kelly."

Cal bit his lip, instantly feeling awkward and uncomfortable at the mention of Kappa's last girlfriend. Kelly Prince was a nice enough girl, pretty and vivacious, who Kappa had naturally fallen in love with after only two dates. Cal, being the best friend that he was, supported Kappa in his relationship—even after Kelly had started to leave hints that she wasn't interested in Kappa anymore. Cal had noticed this immediately, but Kappa seemed to be living in a dream. It was hard for Cal to watch, especially when his best friend was so lovesick to recognize that Kelly was distancing herself from him. But what was he supposed to do anyway? It wasn't his relationship and it wasn't his place.

To Cal, that was the difficult part of being Kappa's best friend—the boy was sometimes too friendly and too naïve that Cal was put in the horrible position of bringing him back down to earth. With Kelly, the question of whether he told Kappa that the girl of 'his dreams' was not interested anymore, or whether he should leave the situation alone and let itself play out had plagued him for weeks and weeks. Cal chose to stay out of it, and he sometimes felt that was one of the biggest mistakes he could have ever made.

In the end, Kelly ended up cheating on Kappa, and Cal was there to watch him crumble. And as the best friend—especially since he saw it coming—he once again had to pick up Kappa and attempt to piece the fragile boy back together, so they could move forward.

It had not been the easiest task. Even now, though Kappa had regained his charismatic smile and boundless energy, Cal knew that his friend was different. He sensed it.

Cal sighed and looked at Kappa, who was smiling softly to himself, "Yeah… going out might be good for you," he agreed.

Kappa grinned at Cal, "Yeah! I mean, imagine if I hook up with someone, and she ends up being the one I marry. You know? Just think about it!"

Then again, maybe he was the same romantic Kapp as ever before.

Cal rolled his eyes. Kappa has this belief that he would find his soul mate before he graduated high school. And while Cal didn't necessarily think this wasn't possible, he did think Kappa's interpretation was a bit unrealistic. But he went along with it anyway, because he didn't want to crush Kappa's imagination.

"You never know, it could happen." Cal said routinely, as this was a conversation that happened on a frequent basis.

Kappa grinned and sat up on his bed, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, folding his hands into his lap, "And what about you, Cal?"

Cal glanced up nervously, "What do you mean?"

Kappa shrugged, "Well you haven't dated—like, ever. So why don't you?"

Cal immediately averted his eyes. It was true, Cal hadn't dated, period, and he always felt extremely uncomfortable whenever Kappa or one of the guys brought it up.

"Cal? C'mon. You're probably the nicest guy out there, besides Tipton. You're sure as hell not that bad looking—"

"Shut up!" Cal felt himself grow intensely hot and he chucked a pillow across the room at Kappa's head. Kappa caught it reflexively and hurled it right on back.

Kappa was un-relentless. As he talked, the pillow was thrust aggressively between the two boys as if it were nothing more than a ping pong ball. "You don't want to wait until you're thirty to start looking for your soul mate, Cal. You'll be surprised how fast the good ones go. You don't want to be one of those lame-ass guys on the Bachelor do you?"

"Oh fuck you, man!" Cal exclaimed.

"Hey, it's either the Bachelor at thirty," Kappa's smile widened and he got off the bed, clutching the pillow as he crossed the room. "Or virgin at forty." With the devilish grin of a toddler, Kappa swung the pillow and hit Cal upside the head.

"I'm going to kill you—!" Cal grabbed Kappa's arm and yanked him down and the boys began entangled in each other as they attempted to get the upper hand, their wrestling match resembling two puppies rolling around in the dirt.

Kappa swung his arm and caught Cal in a headlock, giving a noogie with his other fist as Cal yelped helplessly.

"Argh—stop it, dude, get off!" Cal shouted, turning insanely red. Kappa laughed loudly and retreated, but his arm still hung over Cal's shoulder loosely.

"Hey," his voice, while still lighthearted, was quiet and calmer. "Seriously though. What's up?"

"Nothing," Cal grumbled. "I'm just not—I'm busy, okay? There's never been anyone who caught my attention."

"Well it just doesn't seem like you're trying—"

"Hey, Kapp, just…don't worry about it. I'll find "The One,"" he rolled his eyes, "soon enough."

Kappa slowly nodded. "Fine. Just promise me you'll get yourself out there at the party tonight. C'mon, you could be my wingman! It'll be perfect!"

Cal looked at Kappa, still red in the face. "Okay, okay…I could probably do the infamous 'Haaaaaaaave you met Kappa?' ordeal and be done with it." He grinned at Kappa's fist pump.

"Yes!" Kappa squeezed his shoulders, "This is going to be so epic!" He turned the both of them to his closet, and pulled Cal closer to it, opening the door when he was in reach,

"Now, what are we going to wear to that party tonight?"

"Are you sure you're not a five year old girl?"

Kappa grinned. "Well that wouldn't be the worst thing."

* * *

><p>Derek walked into the nearly empty library, still shocked at how little it was used and how poorly it was recognized. The library, besides his dorm (sometimes), was the only other place he could actually get work done. It was quiet, as a library should be, and he appreciated the resources the library at Dalton had.<p>

He waved to Mrs. Abernathy, who smiled kindly in response. He went to the back of the library, sitting at his usual cubicle, and pulled out all of his materials he needed to get Professor Murdoch's paper out of the way before he went to the party that night.

He was about to type up his opening paragraph, when he heard a large thump on the ground beside him. He looked up, irritated, and rolled his eyes when he saw Logan approach him with a snarl on his lips.

Derek looked at him warily. This kind of look wasn't uncommon when it came to Logan Wright, but this early in the daytime? Derek knew something was up. "What's going on, Wright?"

Logan scoffed, "Have you seen the new kid?"

Derek wrinkled his nose, racking his brain for any recollection of seeing someone new walking the halls. Then he remembered seeing someone new as he left his French class the day before.

"Oh yeah," Derek said leaning back into his chair, "I did see someone new. He was hanging around the Windsors… think I saw him with Blaine Anderson." Derek looked at Logan cautiously, waiting to see his next move.

"That's the one. It's like he's Blaine's new boy-toy or something. It's disgusting to watch, frankly. The Warblers are all raving, about him. Supposedly he's got a voice but he's hardly been here a day and he's already going after him—"

Derek smirked, "Is someone jealous?" He shielded his arms across his body to deflect the book that Logan hurled at him.

"I'm not jealous. If anything, I'm disappointed—Kurt Hummel is cute, he could do much better than Blaine."

Derek exhaled, looking back to his paper and scribbling some notes down on a flash card, "I don't know man. Sounds like you're still harboring feelings. Which is fine—I wouldn't blame you, I guess. Though, that's not much coming from me." Derek smirked at Logan, who glared at him.

"You're kidding, right? Why would I still be into him? He—he got me expelled, Derek!"

Derek sighed in frustration, and threw his pencil on the desk. He really didn't feel like having this conversation again with Logan. The whole fiasco between Blaine and Logan was the talk of the school for quite a while, and Derek was glad it was finally over. But Logan seemed to bring it up whenever possible—mostly to prove a point.

But Derek wouldn't have it.

"No, Logan. You got yourself expelled. You didn't have to fight him! Especially over a guy, for Christ's sake!"

Logan glared at him again, refusing to argue with Derek again over this. Derek sighed and leaned toward him,

"Look, I'm not saying what either of you did was okay—because he screwed you over too—it's just, you can't deny that somewhere in that black hole of a heart, you still have feelings for him. The sooner you acknowledge that, the sooner you can move on—for real—and stop getting all up in my face about it."

Logan scoffed in disbelief, standing up from where he was seated in the chair across from Derek and straightened out his tie,

"I don't have to listen to this. Get it through your head, Seigerson—Blaine Anderson is nothing to me. Is that clear?"

Derek grunted and rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man." He went back to writing his paper as Logan stormed off, knocking the chair over as he walked away, pushing the doors the led out of the library open with great force.

* * *

><p>Since the team had decided to carpool, Derek reluctantly agreed to drive, making him one of the three designated drivers of the evening. Considering he had an SUV, he was able to fit more people into his car. As he followed Burke in his small BMW down the highway, the pre-gamers in the back seat had already started to become obnoxious.<p>

"Hey Derek—Derek! Jon hates you bro, like _hates _you."

Derek rolled his eyes as he followed Burke's sharp turn down a narrow road, "I know, Rodney."

He heard Grayson giggle in the back along with Theodore, who leaned forward enough to fall into the passenger seat, which thankfully nobody had claimed.

"Hi Derek!" Theo laughed hard and Derek rolled his eyes, completely aware that Theodore was a lightweight. He mentally promised himself to teach Theo the ways of drinking when the next opportunity presented itself.

"Sit up, Theo, before you hit your already abnormally small head into the dashboard," Derek muttered, making a sharp turn, still following Burke.

"Jeez, Burke is such a New England driver—"

After what seemed like forever, Derek finally pulled into a massive driveway, with quite a few cars already lined up in it. He put the car in park and unbuckled himself before looking to the backseat, giving his teammates a warning look.

"Listen to me—we are still gentlemen of Dalton, you hear me? If I see you doing anything incredibly stupid while we are here, I swear on the Dean herself, I will make your life a living hell—especially if you dumbasses get caught. Is that clear?"

The boys in the back look dumbfounded before doubling over in fits of laughter, Grayson hiccupping in the process. Derek just rolled his eyes and got out of the car, refusing to wait for the other three boys, who were falling over each other trying to get out.

Derek grunted in relief when he saw Burke and Cal leave their respective cars. Burke shook his head at the boys in Derek's car as Jon and Andrew moved past them, entering the party first. Cal shrugged helplessly as he walked with Kappa into the party, holding onto his waist as Kappa almost tripped over a step. Derek shook his head at the sloppiness his teammates endured whenever they got drunk.

"Hey Derek," Burke waved to him and together they walked into the party.

Derek was surprised—it was very early into the evening and the party was in full swing. There was a main dance floor right when Derek walked into the house, and a burst of energy seeped through him when he caught sight of many girls dancing with their shirts rolled up, revealing their abs. It may suck that he was a designated driver, but the sight of those girls reminded him he did not need alcohol to have fun. He caught sight of one he liked especially—a blonde with a nice rack, dancing more or less alone, save her girlfriends—but before he could go in for the kill, Burke dragged Derek to the large table which contained the alcohol, food, and other beverages.

"Why'd you drag me away, Burke? Did you see all of those girls?" Derek said, bewildered. "I was just about—"

Burke nodded, "Yeah I saw them. But I'm watching out for you too, Derek. I know your reputation, we have a Regatta coming up—I don't want you to get distracted."

Any other captain would have been taken aback by this, but Derek was used to it. Then again, he had been living with Burke for a few years now.

Quite simple, Burke was almost an exact replica of Bailey Tipton; completely reserved, simple, and a persistent peacemaker. And while the last trait, most of the time, became a bother, it was one of the things that made Burke down to earth, and Derek had always liked that about him. However, in times like these, it was something that Derek did not appreciate.

He frowned at the shorter boy, who popped a few chips into his mouth, "Are you saying one hook-up is going to mess up my game, Burke?" Derek's stuck his chest out slightly in defense as he glared at Burke. Derek couldn't believe Burke was questioning his judgment. He was the best rower on the team—he was _captain_ for crying out loud! If Burke was going to criticize anyone, it should be Rodney, not Derek.

The shorter boy narrowed his eyes, "I'm saying we don't need any distractions."

Derek shot a look back at the hot girl on the dance floor then back to Burke. He felt a sudden annoyance come over him as he sensed feelings of doubt from Burke. "It sounds like you don't trust me." Derek said darkly, slightly hovering over Burke.

Burke shrugged and gave him a withering look, "I _do_ trust you, Seigerson. Jesus, this isn't a soap opera. But I care about this team just as much as you and Cal do. And I want to win, goddamn it! And girls…sometimes, they get in your way."

Derek took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed and kept his voice calm, "While I appreciate your concern—you don't need to worry about me being distracted. I can take care of myself."

Burke nodded, "If you say so. Just—be careful. And uh—use protection."

Derek sighed, "Fine." He rolled his eyes slightly at Burke's protectiveness, finding it unnecessary and irritating. His eyes glanced around the room, his grimace growing ever so slightly as his eyes caught sight of the doorway. Burke's eyes followed his gaze and he too frowned at the person walking through the door.

"Is—is that Logan?"

Derek groaned at the name and watching with his eyes narrowed as he saw the blonde prefect walk into the party, snatching up the attention of all of the girls on the dance floor with his pearly white smile and magazine-ready good looks. Derek groaned and slammed his drink onto the table.

"What the hell is he doing here?"

Burke smirked, "Got into another fight, have you?"

Derek snarled, "Don't worry about it." He stood up straighter as he watched Logan glance around the room, looking for familiar faces. His eyes refused to meet Derek's as he walked in the opposite direction of him and into another room, and Derek shook his head growled, clenching his fists.

Burke caught sight of this and was about to speak when they both heard a large crash come from behind them. They both turned to see Grayson tackling Rodney,

"Get—what the—Get _off me_, Brody!"

"But Rodddddddd, you're my best friend ever!"

"Dear God—someone help me!"

Derek rolled his eyes as Burke continued to laugh at his teammates' expense. Derek rushed over to Rodney and pushed Grayson off of him. Rodney smiled up at Derek, who extended his hand and pulled him up. He whispered threateningly to the pair,

"What did I tell you about making a scene?"

Rodney glared at Grayson, whose was having a bit of trouble getting him up straight. He looked up at Derek with puppy dog eyes, and Derek could tell he was a bit tipsier than Rodney.

"I'm sorry Derek! Don't yell at me." Grayson sighed, holding out his arms, "Do you want to hug it out?" He started to walk closer to Derek, attempting to wrap his arms around him.

Derek took a deep breath before hitting Grayson over the head with his hand, "Pull yourself together, Brody! Both of you go drink some water and sit. We haven't been here five minutes and I'm already annoyed with you two!"

The two boys bowed their heads in shame and went to the refreshment table, where Burke smirked as he handed them two bottles of water. Derek sighed as he walked back over to them.

_This is going to be a long night_.

* * *

><p>Logan had been at the party for less than ten minutes, and he already wanted to leave. Logan Wright had never really been much of a partier to begin with, but Derek's words from earlier that day had stuck with him.<p>

_You can't deny that you still, somewhere in your black hole of a heart, have feelings for him._

Logan cursed Derek mentally and downed another shot that was being passed around, hissing as the alcohol reached the back of his throat. Of course he didn't have feelings for Blaine. Blaine was one of the most insecure, short, pathetic excuses for a boyfriend Logan had ever had. No, it wasn't Blaine Logan was concerned about.

It was Kurt, the new boy who was painfully over the moon for Blaine. A burning sensation surged through Logan's midsection every time the thought of Kurt's smile directed towards Blaine passed through his mind.

He shook the thought away immediately—_I do not still have feelings for Blaine._ _That is ridiculous. Sure, I miss him and he was my boyfriend, and I did love him, but I'm not upset because he's with someone new. I'm Logan fucking Wright, I can get anyone I want. I don't need Blaine._

He walked around a corner and found himself in yet another room full of drunk and horny individuals—two types of people Logan couldn't stand being around for a long period of time. Logan grimaced as he sat down at the end of the cleanest couch he could find, eyeing the person sitting at the end of it, who looked extremely uncomfortable as a girl was obnoxiously trying to flirt with him.

Logan watched the exchange between the two, and almost smacked himself when he recognized the tall, muscular dark-haired boy as Cal Morrel, one of his boarders in Stuart house.

He felt bad for Cal as the girl rattled on about something he clearly could care less about, and being a good prefect, he decided to step in.

"Erm, excuse me?"

Cal and the girl looked over to Logan, and Logan couldn't help but smile at the relieved look Cal gave him when their eyes met.

"Yes—can we help you?" The girl said, blatantly annoyed by Logan interrupting in what she clearly thought would end up as a one night stand, if there was any indication by her body language. She was practically pressing her thighs against Cal's, and batting her eyelashes like something was caught in them.

Logan flashed a charming smile her way, "Yes, someone told me to find the girl with the—red bag," Logan said lamely, pointing to her bright, red purse that was slung over her shoulder.

The girl cocked her head to the side in curiosity, "Okay…what did they want?"

Logan shrugged, and thought quickly. An idea materialized in a split second and he blurted out, "You're car is being towed, or, that's what I heard."

The girl's eyes went wide, "Oh my god! No! Not my BMW! My dad will freak—" She stood up abruptly and put a hand on Logan's arm, "—Thank you!" With that, she fled from the couch and out of the front door, leaving Cal without a good-bye.

Logan crossed one leg over the other, raising an intrigued eyebrow to Cal, who simply sighed loudly in relief.

"I owe you one, Logan. She was bugging the crap out of me."

"No kidding." Logan drawled sarcastically as he took a swig of yet another shot that was being carried around on a large tray. One was offered to Cal as well, but he shook it away politely, glancing over at Logan cautiously.

"Did you drive here?"

Logan nodded and hissed again, throwing the shot glass behind him, "Yup, I did."

"You shouldn't be drinking, then."

Logan sighed in exasperation and gave Cal a hazy look before leaning his head back against the couch, "Whatever. I only had two shots. I'll be fine."

Cal eyed Logan wearily, but settled into the couch, attempting to get comfortable. Logan watched his every move.

"So what are you doing here sitting by yourself?" Logan asked, trying to make polite conversation. The truth was, though Logan was prefect, he didn't make it a point to get to know his house boarders, especially if they weren't even Warblers. He only really knew Cal through Derek, and even Derek didn't speak of him much.

Cal was surprised by his question but he shrugged and pointed to the smaller dance floor that was in front of them, "Well….I came with Kappa—I drove, at least—but he clearly didn't wait around for me," Logan followed Cal's finger, and he couldn't suppress his laugh as he watched Kappa do the robot on the dance floor in a circle of about four other girls.

"Well he sure knows how to work it."

Logan noticed Cal's slight hesitation when he responded, "Yeah, I guess."

Logan cocked his head to the side, his blonde hair sweeping his eyes as his interest in Cal increased. At the moment, he couldn't put his finger on it, but he was sure something was going on with Cal—something other people clearly failed to notice.

Being the type of person that refused to beat around the bush, Logan began his interrogation, "So what about you? Are you dating anyone?"

Cal's whole body went rigid, shock passing across his face as he stuttered out his answer. "Uh, Logan, I—I'm not _gay." _A small unconvincing smile crawled across his tremulous lips.

Logan blinked and slowly a smirk came to his own face, "I never said you were, Cal."

Blood rushed to Cal's face, making his cheeks beet red. His eyes averted Logan's out of embarrassment, a slight groan emitting from his throat. "Oh sh—I'm sorry, it's just—you're gay and I- I thought that you—I thought—"

"It's fine, Cal," Logan said smoothly. "Calm down."

"I don't have a problem with it, you know. I don't. I really don't, I think you—you _guys_ are totally cool. Like really, I'm fine with you, you know being gay," Cal was still stuttering up a storm. "It's just that—you know what I mean? Like I'm not…_like_ that."

Logan couldn't help laughing. "Man, you're cute when you're nervous."

"Wh—I'm not nervous!" Cal's face grew even more red. "Or gay—I mean cute! I mean—"

"Shut up, you're making it worse," Logan's smile turned devilish. "You didn't even answer my question you know—_are you seeing anyone_?"

"No, no. I just—I don't really have time to go looking for someone. With Crew and school, I'm fine—being by myself," Cal continued.

Logan nodded, growing more entranced by Cal's vulnerability, curious as to why the boy was acting so strange. He had a hunch though. Cocking his head to the side, he pursed his lips as he mulled around the idea in his head. Deciding to test the waters, he eased his way closer to Cal, shifting his weight so their knees were touching. Cal flinched at the contact, and stiffened at Logan's sly smile.

"I'm sure you could find some time—you just have to _make_ time," Logan stared deep into Cal's eyes, sighing quietly as he saw Cal flinched ever so marginally. Logan was about to speak again when a loud crash shocked him enough to pull him back. Both boys looked over to the source of the crash, and sure enough, they were catching sight of Kappa and another boy fallen over on the ground, clutching his head desperately,

"Ow…Where's Cal? I _need_ Cal." He moaned as he moved onto his side, rubbing the sore spot on his head.

Cal took a deep breath and shot Logan an apologetic look before standing up and rushing to Kappa, leaning down and helping him up. Logan stared at the pair as they exited the room, shaking his head in enjoyment.

_Well, that was interesting._

* * *

><p>"Alright, now is your perfect chance—go over to him and do what I told you."<p>

Andrew shifted uncomfortably, glancing back to the refreshment table and then back up to Jon, "I still don't feel right about this."

Jon rolled his eyes and thrust the bulky object into Andrew's chest, poking him with it as he spoke. "You do as I say, and you do it now!"

"But Jon—" Andrew protested.

"No, This _has_ to be done. And it has to be done tonight." Jon yelled, but no one had taken a notice to the two huddled in a corner as the music was loud enough for the residents in the next town to hear.

"But is this really the way—? Derek isn't even drinking!" Andrew groaned, looking back at the refreshment table, where Derek was chatting up what he assumed was his next conquest.

"Then find a way to make him, or get him in possession."

"I can't do that!"

"Yes you will," Jon snapped, "I told you, do you want everyone to know about—"

"—Fine! I'll do it." He snatched the camera from Jon's hand, guilt flashing through his eyes as he turned away from him, pushing past people as he made his way toward Derek.

Andrew wasn't the type of person who liked to start conflict, but Jon's threat—and what Jon knew—forced him to comply with Jon.

It took every fiber of Andrew's being to ensure his past stayed in the past. Andrew never wanted anyone to find out why he had to transfer to Dalton in the middle of the semester. The quick excuse of, "a better education," seemed to suffice for most of the student body, and Andrew was relieved at that fact.

His worst nightmare came true what Jon sprang his realization onto him. To this day, Andrew still wasn't sure how exactly he found out, but he imagined Jon did a bit of research on him. On the one hand, Andrew didn't blame Jon for snooping around—who wouldn't want to know about their roommate who suspiciously transferred to a high class boarding school? However, on the other hand, he hated Jon for finding out his biggest regrets, and resented him for trying to find things out about him in the first place.

When Jon had confronted Andrew on what he had learned, he had implied that no one else would find out what he knew.

"_I won't tell anyone, of course. But I just thought I should tell you—I know everything." _

_Andrew stiffened as he watched Jon pace around the room, settling on sitting on his bed._

_He nodded in understanding, "I just—need to make sure my secret stays a secret."_

_Jon nodded but had a slight twinkle in his eye, "You're secret is safe with me."_

To this day, Andrew was still surprised at the change he saw in Jon from that day until now. Andrew still stood by the fact that Jon wasn't all that bad, but he did live with him—and that meant he saw a lot of aspects of Jon that others didn't get to see.

His jealousy was one of those aspects.

And now Jon was letting that jealousy take over him, which in turn, made Jon use Andrew's secret to get him to do what he wanted. He refused to let anyone find out about what happened to him, and if listening to Jon was the way to prevent that, then _goddamnit_, he was going to do it.

Andrew stared down at the camera in his hand and turned back to Jon, who grunted and shot him a wide, impatient look as he nodded towards the refreshment table. Andrew gave him a pleading gaze before he turned around and continued to make his way toward the table.

As he pushed past drunken party guests, Derek became more apparent in view, and as Andrew got closer, he was able to hear his teammate's conversation.

"Come on Derek—just let me have one more!" Grayson pleaded, shaking Derek's shoulders in protest. Derek, who was already fed up with the way the night was turning out, shook his head sternly and pushed Grayson off of him,

"No, are you crazy? No more drinking for you!" He looked to Rodney, "And no more for you, either!"

Rodney pouted, "But why? I'm not as bad as he is!"

Derek gave him a disbelieving look and shoved another water bottle into his chest, "Because Grayson is like a child—he wants what everyone else wants. He sees you drinking; he'll throw a hissy fit and expect the same treatment. And I am not about to play mother to you two!" He already took that role with Logan and Julian.

Rodney gasped and looked to Burke for assistance. Burke, who gave him a defeated stare, "Sorry Copeland—he's the boss."

Rodney scoffed, "Yeah well—well you're a big pushover!" Rodney frowned and then glared at Derek. Andrew noticed Derek coming up with a retort, and he took this opportunity to make his move. He stalked up to them, grabbing the nearest cup of beer he could find off of the table without Derek noticing. Andrew proceeded to stumble over to Derek, snorting and rolling his eyeballs like he was already getting buzzed off the alcohol. He turned to Derek.

"Heyyyyyy Derek! Do me a favor will ya? Hold my drink?" Andrew shoved the drink into Derek's hand, ignoring his slight protest and confused features. Andrew regrettably looked down at the camera in his hands for a split second before thrusting it up in the air, MySpace style, and pointing the lens down at himself and Derek.

"Smile for the camera, D!"

Before Andrew even had time to press the shutter button, he heard a loud, strangled cry come from behind him,

"WHAT THE HELL, DALTON? NO CAMERAS! DO YOU _WANT_ US TO GET CAUGHT?"

Derek and Andrew turned around to see a tall, pale, lanky boy with dark hair snatch the camera from Andrew's hands—a look of pure annoyance on his face.

Andrew reached to grab the camera out of the other boy's hands, "Shit man, I'm sorry. I won't take any pictures—it was all in good fun. No harm done—"

"No bro. I know you Dalton kids think you're so great, but we don't need your preppy asses ruining this party!"

Andrew's face paled as he held up his hands, "Sorry—" Andrew turned as he felt his elbow hit Derek's hand and his jaw dropped in shock as he watched the cup of beer fly from Derek's hand and onto Rodney's shirt.

_Oh no._

Andrew faced Rodney, whose nostrils were flaring as he wiped excess beer off of his shirt. He winced as he heard Rodney mutter curses under his breath. The #4 rower on the team was the type of person who liked to look 'sharp' at all times—'swag' is another word Rodney liked to be referred to as. And Andrew knew Rodney would never let anyone live down this party foul. Andrew glanced nervously at Rodney's shirt, and saw he was wearing one that said, "I'm That Dude."

"Sorry Rod—I didn't realize you were right behind me." Andrew said, grabbing a napkin from the table and holding it out to him.

Rodney glared at Andrew and stalked towards him, pushing him roughly, "You need to watch yourself!" The darker boy sneered as Andrew went stumbling backward, not prepared for Rodney's forceful hit—the strength of which was testament to the long hours of Crew training they all endured. Andrew lost his balance and knocked over two other boys with beers in their hands that were standing a few feet away from them.

One of the boys, a tall, buff, light haired lad from St. Patrick's turned around, his eyes wide and his breathing ragged, "Who just hit me?" He caught sight of Andrew, who was bent over on the floor, trying to stand up straight.

The boy wasted no time in lifting Andrew up from the floor, grabbing him by the crook of his shirt and lifting him slightly up in the air so they were face-to-face. Andrew inhaled a sharp breath as the boy whispered threateningly,

"You tryin' to start a fight, Dalton?"

Andrew shook his head, mentally cursing Jon for getting him into this situation, "N—no! Not at all, it was an accident—"

The loud smack of the punch thrown by the boy and Andrew's groan was lurid enough for most of the people in the room to hear. Andrew held his face in his hands as he stumbled away from the boy, who advanced on him again.

As Captain, it was Derek's job to make sure his teammates were safe and unharmed. He already had one teammate down—and while he was sure Andrew's injury was easily curable, he didn't want this hooligan to make even more of a mess to Andrew's face.

Derek made his way toward the boy and stood in front of him, stopping him form moving any further.

"Listen jock, leave the kid alone. You already got one punch in, don't you—"

Numbness immediately took over Derek's face as the boy punched him straight in the nose. Derek's body made contact with the hard floor as he fell from the force of the blow.

By now, there was a seemingly large crowd of people surrounding the three of them, and Derek groaned as he stood up, refusing to let an asshole at a party—from Saint Patrick's no less—get the last punch.

He stood up and made his way over to the boy, who was now being consoled by a pretty girl with Ugg boots on and a mini skirt. Derek looked her up and down, and recognized her as Tabitha, one of the girls he had been trying to fool around with for a few weeks.

The problem with her though, is that she was dating Wesley Hughes. But it wasn't like that was going to stop Derek from doing anything he could to get her in his bed.

As he approached the pair, he overheard Tabitha speak as she tried to calm the boy down.

"Max, you dumbass, you can't just beat people up at a party for no reason! What if something bad had happened! You're a linebacker—you could have seriously hurt him, or, hell, wrecked yourself!"

Max shook his head in defiance, "Tabitha, he came at me first!"

The girl named Tabitha shook her head and threw up her hands in frustration, "It's a party, Max—people are getting thrown around everywhere all of the time. It was probably an accident! What if you had hurt yourself? We have a big game next week! Use your brain for once!"

Tabitha caught sight of Derek and she gave him a shocked look, rushing over to him and examining his bruised lip and red nose, "Oh my god, Derek? Are you okay? Do you need ice or something? That doesn't look very good."

Derek smirked at her, completely forgetting the thoughts of punching the other boy square in the face.

To be honest, he didn't really feel the pain of the punch anymore, but if got him attention from Tabitha, who was he to not play along?

He winced and smiled softly at her, "Oh—oh _man_." He groaned for emphasis, "I think my nose may be broken."

Tabitha smirked. "Let's hope not. Pretty face like yours wouldn't look so good crooked."

Derek mentally gave himself a pat on the back as Tabitha continued to mend to him. She sighed as her finger lightly traced the bruise that was forming on his cheek, and she shook her head,

"I'm sorry this happened to you. Max is an angry drunk—your friend was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Derek nodded and looked back to Andrew, who was now getting help from Grayson, who was kneeling down and helping him up off of the floor.

Derek looked back to Tabitha, who smiled sweetly at him before standing up, smoothing out her skirt and glancing around,

"I wonder where Wes went—" She muttered to herself.

Suddenly there was a rush of people abruptly dropping their cups onto the floor and pushing each other out of the way to get as far away from the front door as possible. This madness of people started to make their way towards the refreshment table and to the back of the house.

Tabitha and Derek shared equally confused looks as more people rushed past, and Tabitha was able to grab hold of Cassie Berkley, the host of the party, as she picked up as many beer cans as she could while shoving them into a trash bag she was carrying.

"Cass, what's going on?"

The short, blonde girl's blue eyes widened in fear as she got out of Tabitha's grip, "Police are parked outside my house. They are about to come in. Get out while you can!"

Derek's heart dropped at the word "police" and immediately turned around to search for his teammates. He pushed people out of the way as he tried to gain a better view of the refreshment table. When he only saw Burke and Rodney looking frantically for him, he ran a shaky hand through his hair and attempted to get to them as fast as he could.

This was not good. It was one thing for the Crew team to be at a party at all—but if they were caught by the police, not only would Sped have their heads, but the Dean of Dalton would also chew their asses out. Not to mention if they were caught, Sped would make their practices even harder than they already were as their punishments. And Derek was not about to be punished for being one of the damn designated drivers.

When he reached Rodney and Burke, he saw they were also looking for the rest of their teammates.

"Derek, the only exit is through the front door—we're done for." Burke panted as more and more people started to bust into the main room area.

"Where are the others?" Derek asked frantically.

Rodney shook his head, and Derek was surprised to see his teammate had already somewhat sobered up, though he was still drunk enough to sway where he stood—and drunk enough to get in a whole lot of trouble. "I don't know. Grayson and Andrew went somewhere to fix Andrew's bloody nose. Kappa and Cal are in another room. And only God knows where Jon went."

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, but cried out slightly in pain for he momentarily forgot he was just brutally attacked.

He scanned the room frantically again, but was stopped by Burke who tugged his shoulder so he could face him,

"Derek we have to get out of here. They're big boys, they can get out themselves. We need to save our own asses."

Derek shook his head, remembering the golden team rule, "But we don't leave anyone behind—"

"Hey Derek!"

Derek turned at the sound of his name and sighed when he saw Tabitha make her way towards him. She sighed as she reached them, and looked up at Derek,

"I know a way you can get out of here."

Derek's eyes brightened in surprise, "Really? Could you help us out?"

Tabitha nodded and grabbed his arm, waving so Rodney and Grayson followed, "Please, I know this house like the back of my hand. There is a back door in the basement, and it'll lead you to the side of the house. By the time we get there, you'll be able to get your cars since the police will be in here."

Derek nodded and motioned for the boys to follow her. Pushing past crowds of people, they finally got to the other side of the house and Tabitha opened the dead bolted door that led to the basement of the house. Derek was surprised at how quickly they moved through the basement seeing as the only thing the space was occupying was a small rocking chair and a desk lamp.

Once they reached the back door Tabitha had mentioned, she opened it and pushed the three boys out of the door, and she followed suit, closing the door behind her.

Derek noticed other guests had known about this back door, because many of them were running through Cassie's backyard and hopping her fence to get away from the house and the police. Derek shook his head and looked back to Tabitha, who was searching the grounds as well.

"Thanks Tabitha—I owe you one." He grinned at her.

She gave him a quick smile and shrugged, "Whatever. I'm glad I could help."

Derek was determined to get this girl. He had never been denied before. Even by girls who had boyfriends—his charm and good body always got him the girl. And even though he was all bruised up, and they just had to escape from police, he was not going to let that get in the way of landing a chick. Especially this chick, who was feisty and had a mind of her own, something he found irresistible. He gave Tabitha a charming smile and walked closer to her, stuffing his hands into his pockets,

"It wasn't just anything—you pretty much saved our asses. He slid an arm around her, bringing her in closer, "Let me make it up to you—I'll take you out to dinner this weekend."

Tabitha glared at him and shook her head, crossing her arms and releasing herself from his grip, "Derek, I told you. I have a boyfriend. I'm not interested in dating you."

Derek smirked and leaned down slightly and looked at her directly in the eye, "Oh yeah, well where is Wes now? It's a party—he should be here with you."

Tabitha frowned as she dug her nails into her skin, "H—he left. We got into a fight—"

"Thank god you're out of there!" Derek turned around and sighed in relief as he saw Cal dragging Kappa out of the house through the basement door. However, he frowned as he saw Logan following closely behind them, a look of annoyance plastered on his face.

_Well what else is new?_

* * *

><p>Cal was holding onto Kappa, who was stumbling over his own feet and falling over. Cal ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he tried to keep hold of the obliterated Kappa. He felt Kappa trip over his shoe lace and he fell over, but was quickly picked up by Logan, who had seen the pair and rushed over to help him out.<p>

Logan gave Cal a cheeky grin and the two of them led Kappa to Cal's BMW, where the pushed Kappa into the back seat and let the door open for some fresh air.

Logan leaned his hand against the car, crossing his leg over the other and glancing down at Cal, "Well, thank god we got out of there."

Cal quickly looked up at him and leaned his back against the car, "Yeah. Good thing." we got out of there."

Logan stuck out his chest slightly, watching as Cal glanced nervously to the ground, taking great interest in the gravel that outlined the driveway. Logan smirked, his suspicions about the boy growing stronger, and he leaned in closer to him, raising an interested eyebrow.

It was at that time Cal chose to look up from the gravel and instantly, his face colored red yet again. It seemed like this boy was more often red than not. It was definitely cute.

"Wh—what?" Cal turned his head sharply, squinting in the distance at nothing.

"I was just thinking it was stupid that I hadn't talked to you before this, that's all," Logan answered casually.

"Stupid? No, you're just… different than me. We have nothing in common so why would we talk?" Cal mumbled.

Logan's smiled diminutively. "I think we have more in common than you think."

Cal once again tensed, but his eyes stayed glued to the spot in the distance. "…I think you're wrong."

"You want to know what I think, Cal?"

Cal gazed up and cocked his head to the side, his audible sigh an indication that Logan should continue, did not answer and he did not move.

"I think you should start dating."

Cal's eyes bulged as he made eye contact with Logan again, and he leaned straight against the car, shaking his head quickly, "N—no. I don't think I—I should. Really—it's fine. I'll be fine. I don't need to date anyone—"

Logan smiled in slight anxiousness and stepped closer to the Coxswain, his eyes bearing into him, "But why? Really, there's nothing to be afraid of. Dating isn't all that bad—you just have to get into the swing of things—"

"Why are you all of the sudden on my case, Wright? You've never taken an interest in any aspect of my life before—why the _hell_ are you up my ass about this now?"

Logan's startled expression did not go unnoticed by Cal, who was giving him a hard look of frustration as he breathed heavily. Logan stepped back and leaned against the car again.

He immediately thought of Derek, and their conversation in the library that day. He looked back to Cal, and an image of Blaine surged past his mind, and he shuddered as Blaine's smile flashed through his mind in a second, leaving an aching trail of memories in its wake.

_Why am I up Cal's ass about this? I'm not attracted to him at all. He's not my type._ Logan looked up and down at Cal's lanky demeanor lanky body, toned with lean muscle—only one that a brilliant Coxswain would have.

He looked into Cal's eyes and pulled out a cheeky smile, "I'm sorry, Cal. I guess I just—"

"_Uh oh_."

Both boys turned to the back seat of the car, where Kappa was clutching to his stomach, his skin turning greener by the second.

"Kappa—what's the matter?" Cal rushed over to his side, and Kappa shook his head.

"I don't feel very well." He said, leaning his head out of the car.

"Oh no." Logan muttered, turning his back towards them and walking a few steps away from them. Logan was not good with three things; blood, girls, and throw up. If he caught sight of the repeated alcohol and food Kappa ate that day, he wasn't sure if he was going to make it without getting squeamish himself.

"Step back, Cal—"

"—Kappa, I—"

Logan winced as he heard Kappa throw up onto the ground, and he refused to turn around until he was 100% sure Kappa was finished.

Almost 10 minutes had gone by until Logan was confident that Kappa was lying down in the back seat of Cal's car, passed out and vomit-free. He walked back over to Cal who was wiping his forehead.

He shot Logan and apologetic look, "Sorry about that. I didn't realize he was going to—"

"Projectile vomit everywhere?" Logan shot him a disbelieving look at sighed, "Whatever. Its fine, I'm going to just head back to my car and forget this even happened."

Cal grabbed Logan's arm before he got the chance to walk away, "I'm not letting you drive!" Logan was surprised by his declaration, glancing down at where Cal gripped him firmly on the forearm. Cal became suddenly shy again and dropped Logan like he was made of fire, "I—I mean, you were drinking. You shouldn't drive. Come on, I'll drive you back to Dalton and I'll bring you back here to get your car in the morning."

Logan smirked at Cal's touch and pulled his arm away slowly, "Sure, alright then." As much as Logan didn't want to be stuck in the same car with someone who had to potential to puke all over him, he realized Cal was right. Drinking and driving was something he should not be doing, especially as a Prefect and a Warbler. He followed Cal to the passenger seat of the car and got in, waiting for Cal to get in the car and drive him back to Dalton.

As they drove away, he saw Derek throw Rodney, Theodore and Grayson into his car. He stared him down as they drove away, and he turned away once they hit the main road.

Logan knew it wasn't Derek's fault he was so messed up. He also understood, more than ever after tonight—what with his failed attempt at flirting with Cal— that what Derek said in the library was true, and that he was only trying to be a good friend.

The blonde's eyebrows furrowed as the realization came upon him—yes he was an asshole. But pushing his friend away was not something he needed to do. He gazed back out the window, but his gaze was shattered as he heard the window roll down behind him.

"Uh, guys, it's happening again!"

Logan covered his ears as Kappa stuck his head out of the window, and unfortunately for Cal, he had to deal with a nervous Logan, who repeatedly sang "La la la la la" to drown out the vomiting Kappa was now doing out of his car window.

Cal rolled his eyes and drove faster, trying to get to Dalton before Kappa did any more damage.

_This is the last time I am ever going to a party._

* * *

><p>"Hey, Derek, glad to see you made it out alive."<p>

Derek looked up from his paper, and cocked his head to the side when Logan entered his room. Yeah, thank the good lord he made it out of the party alive, or it would have been his ass on the line. The blonde shifted his eyes slightly as he glanced around Derek's room. Derek gave him a raised eyebrow and scoffed, not wanting to give Logan the satisfaction that the police panic at the party had scared the crap out of him.

"Whatever." He finally asked when the silence stretched on past thirty seconds, still annoyed with Logan after the argument they had in the library and pissed off that he had nearly crashed his party, which was supposed to help him relax. But nope, like always, Logan was the constant catalyst of all things shitty and stressful in his life. Yeah, he wasn't really in the mood to fight anymore.

Logan looked nervous. "You know I don't do well with apologies," he began lamely. "So just, take this as you will—you're the only one here who tolerates me. And I can't have that one person be mad at me. So I'm here to say that I don't agree with what you said but, I shouldn't have stormed off like that. And I shouldn't have interrupted your Crew party or whatever." Logan bit his lip and sat down on Derek's bed. After a few moments, he let out an exasperated noise. "Shit, you're making me really nervous here."

Derek laughed and nodded, "Yeah, yeah apology accepted. You're still a jackass."

"But I'm your jackass," Logan smirked.

"How'd I manage to get so lucky?" Derek deadpanned and they both shared a small snicker.

Logan lounged on Derek's bed, folding his arms on his stomach as he stared at the ceiling. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while as Derek continued to type his paper, the crickets outside taking up the conversation for them. It felt like a few minutes had gone by before Logan spoke again.

"So…why didn't you tell me Calvin Morrel was gay?"

Derek did a double take in surprise, thinking his friend was crazy for even bringing up such an impossible concept, "Uh…because he isn't?"

Logan sat up and gave Derek an amused eyebrow, "My gay-dar is never wrong, D. That boy is as gay as Neil Patrick Harris. Trust me."

Derek stared at Logan, slack jawed in disbelief. Derek had known Cal since freshman year and Derek regarded their relationship as a pretty good one. Sure, Cal wasn't his best friend ever—that was Logan and Julian—but he was his best friend on Crew, and Crew was a pretty massive part of his life. They were reasonably close. Close enough, in fact, that he was sure Cal would have told him if he liked other dudes. Cal would have no problem telling him actually, seeing as he was best friends with Logan Wright, who everyone definitely knew was gay. It was kind of hard not to notice, especially after last year's fiasco.

The more he thought about it, the more he was adamantly sure that Cal was absolutely not gay.

Derek shook his head, "No way, man. Your medication must be impairing your judgment—actually, are you sure you are not drunk? There is no way in hell Cal is gay."

Logan shrugged, "Alright, think what you want. But I'm telling you—don't come crying to me when you find out I was right all along."

Derek was about to retort when he heard his phone ring. He looked at the clock on his desk and saw it was 11:00, and he also considered the fact that it was a Saturday night. He hummed happily as he picked up the phone, not having to look at the caller ID to know who it was.

"Hi Amanda." He cooed into the phone as he received a roll of the eyes from Logan, who flopped back onto the bed. He always loved talking to his younger sister, whom he hated to leave when he went away to school. She was the only girl in his life he genuinely adored.

"Hi Bear! It's Amanda! I miss you." Derek shook his head at the nickname she had given him and chuckled.

"I know it's you, silly. I miss you too. What are you doing up so late—its way past your bedtime."

Derek could hear Amanda sigh into the phone as she said, "I can't sleep, and mommy said I could call you to—to see if maybe you could help me sleep? Like you did when you were home?"

Derek couldn't suppress a smile and he glanced over toward Logan, who was blowing the hair out of his eyes, his arms crossed in boredom.

"Sure, Panda, let me just ask Logan if he will help me—"

"—Help you with what?"

Derek placed his hand over the speaker of the phone and whispered, "My sister can't sleep, I usually sing to her—but I figured since you're in the Warblers…"

"You're kidding! You sing?" Logan's previously cross expression melted into one of pure amazement and delight, almost like he was ten years younger. "I have to hear this," he stood up and walked over to Derek and watched as Derek put the phone on speaker and propped it up against his textbooks. "Okay princess, what do you want us to sing?"

The other line was silent, but then a squeal of giggles bubbled from the speaker, which made Derek's heart skip a beat.

"Sing that song from Lady and the Tramp!" Amanda squealed.

Logan smirked, "Bella Notte?"

Amanda laughed, "Yes! It's my favorite!"

Derek and Logan shared a look, and Derek shrugged, "Alright, if that's what you want." Derek took a deep breath, prompted his voice, and open his mouth to begin:

_Oh this is the night_

_It's a beautiful night_

_And we call it Bella Notte_

Logan looked at Derek, surprised to find that his voice wasn't all too bad, but clearly not Warbler material. If it was molded, perhaps, by singing lessons, it could one day prove a worthy addition to the ensemble. Logan began singing, smiling into phone as he did so,

_Look at the skies_

_They have stars in their eyes_

_On this lovely Bella Notte_

Derek couldn't keep the grin off of his face as he sang, imagining Amanda smiling happily as she lay in her bed, holding onto her teddy bear and snuggling into her blankets.

_Side by side_

_With your loved one_

_You'll find enchantment here_

Logan's voice gave Derek chills as he sang and he was grateful that Logan agreed to help him with this.

_The night will weave its magic spell_

_When the one you love is near_

_Ooh_

They took the next part together, Logan throwing his arms around Derek's shoulders as their voices harmonized surprisingly perfectly.

_This is the night and heavens are right_

_On this lovely Bella Notte_

_This is the night, it's a beautiful night_

_And they call it Bella Notte_

_Look at the skies_

_They have stars in their eyes_

_On this lovely Belle Notte_

_Side by side with your loved one_

_You'll find enchantment here_

_The night will weave its magic spell_

_When the one you love is near_

_Oh this is the night and the heavens are right_

_On this lovely Bella Notte_

The two ended on a solid note, and Derek picked up the phone, speaking into it softly,

"Amanda? Hello?"

"Hello, Derek." A cold voice sneered on the other end of the phone. Derek rolled his eyes, as he always did when talking to the sinister woman.

"Hello, mother."

"She's asleep." She said sternly, in a tone that made Derek feel as though he had done something wrong.

"Okay, well, that's good." He sat back down in his chair, defeated, watching as Logan too sat back on his bed, picking up a magazine that was lying on the floor and leafing through it.

"How's school?"

"Fine." Derek answered automatically.

"And Crew?"

"Good."

"Great," a pause, "See you at Christmas, then."

"Bye mom."

She then hung up the phone, and Derek hung up on his end, harshly placing his phone on his desk.

"Well, that was charming." Derek heard Logan coo.

"Screw you."

Logan shrugged, "You don't have it as bad as I do, so you should be thankful."

Derek sighed, "You're right."

"Damn straight."

He looked to Logan, who was sitting up on his bed. Derek had to give Logan credit—for someone whose father was a senator, and who treated Logan like absolute crap, Logan still managed to reassure his relationship with his mother, and Derek realized just how lucky he was to have a friend like Logan.

The two fell into a comfortable silence again and Logan continued to leaf through the magazine, the turning of the pages being the only noise in the room until Logan sighed,

"You know Derek," Logan said, turning around and flashing him a picture that was in the magazine, "You'd look really good in this sweater."

Derek rolled his eyes, glancing at the grey sweater the 'hunky' model was sporting in the picture. He gave Logan a mocked appalled look, "That's so not my style. Have you _seen_ the things in my closet? It just doesn't belong."

Logan looked up and studied Derek's preppy-styled polo shirt, plaid shorts and boating shoes. He nodded and looked back at the magazine, flipping another page,

"Yeah I guess. But you know what _is_ in the closet—Cal Morrel." He said the name with a smirk and grinned at Derek who threw the pencil that was behind his ear at Logan.

"There is no way Cal is gay!" Derek said sternly.

Logan laughed and gave him a skeptical look before he stood up and brushed off his pants.

"De-Nile isn't just a river, Derek." He smirked at Derek who sighed heavily and stared at Logan, his look making it clear that he was not changing his mind.

Logan smirked, "Alright, don't believe me. But I'm telling you, I am never wrong about these things." Derek watched as he left, his eyes never leaving the spot Logan was leaning on. His mind raced as he thought of Cal, his best friend on the row team.

"Cal isn't gay!" He said to himself reassuringly, shuffling through some papers on his desk.

He looked back to where Logan stood, replaying his assumptions about Cal over and over in his head.

Cal was his best friend on Crew. Derek would know if he was gay—he spends so much time with him. He'd have picked up on it by now!

…_Right?_

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading!<p>

Raven x ~


	3. Complications

**Author's Note:** Well hello, all of you fellow Coult members. Here is the third chapter of my baby This one took a bit longer to get out—the end of summer is drawing near, and my schedule along with my Beta's just got crazy and didn't match up at some points. But alas, we finally have a new chapter! I'm really excited about this one, guys. As always, I have to thank my love Beta Lauryl (storiesbycandlelight) for once again, putting up with my excessive asks and emails and crazy nonsense on Tumblr. Again, this story wouldn't be what it is without you. I love you 3~

**Guys, read the disclaimer.**

_Disclaimer: A bit different this time—to go along with the storyline of Dalton, some dialogue from actual canon!Dalton is used (to show reactions of such dialogue from another point of view). From here on out, this situation will be occurring more and more. Of course, those words, if you recognize them, do not belong to me—they belong to Miss CP Coulter, and can be found in Chapter Three of her story.. I also do not own any of her characters, like Derek Seigerson and Logan Wright. I also don't own Glee, Kurt Hummel or Blaine Anderson as they belong to Fox and the RIB clan._

* * *

><p><strong>Stuart<strong>

**Chapter Three: Complications **

"_It's over." _

Tabitha Adams stood at the grand entrance of Windsor, the house where her boyfriend—_ex boyfriend_, she reminded herself—Wes stayed during the school year. She glanced up at the house, mulling over the idea of going back in there and giving Wes another piece of her mind and ripping the pounds of gel out of that other boy—the one who had _queened_ out on her.

She stomped her foot and grunted, her hands clenching into fists before she turned on her heel in defeat. Hot tears began to stream down her face as she walked, wiping them away as the cool autumn wind flew them past her cheekbone.

Tabitha knew her and Wes had been on and off for the past year, which is why she didn't understand how he could easily just break up with her. Even after they would break up, they would always find each other again, and being reunited would always lead to a fantastic night, and an even better morning.

Contrary to her belligerent attitude and snide remarks, Tabitha saw herself as someone who was very capable of falling in love. And while she and Wes did fight—_a lot_—her relationship with him was the longest she had ever had. And maybe she had been misreading things; maybe he never found his way back to her after they broke up—maybe she was making that up in her head—but she certainly felt she dug through trenches, and went around the world and back to him again. And if that wasn't love, then she didn't know what was.

_That was my mistake._

The tears found their way to her eyes again, and she wiped them away fiercely. Her face flushed with heat as she thought of Wes again, and suddenly her stomach turned and her eyes narrowed.

_I gave him everything, _she realized, _and he just dumps me like one of Hugh Hefner's play dates? _

She forcibly shook her head, crossing her arms tighter across her chest, slightly relieved as the main campus buildings were growing closer.

She pulled her purse strap higher onto her shoulder and adjusted her beanie as she approached South and Main, where her car was parked. She looked up and caught sight of a single figure jogging on the path that led towards one of the other houses. She walked a bit faster to see if she could make out whom it was, and she gasped to herself when the spiky hair and muscular arms flickered in her memory.

Derek Seigerson.

She quickly looked around the grounds for a route of escape. There was no way she was going to let anyone—especially Derek—see her in this state.

Unfortunately for her, before she had any time to plan her hiding, she heard his voice call after her,

"Tabitha!"

She groaned and wiped some stray tears from her eyes before turning around. Her brown eyes met his, and she nodded at him reluctantly.

"Derek."

"Hey Tabitha," His casual smile gleamed as he spoke her name, "What are you doing over here so early?"

Tabitha's heart tugged as images of the mornings events flooded into her mind. There was no way she was going to bring that up again. Not if she wanted to be a huge sobbing mess at Derek's feet. And what was worse was that she knew he would charm her and have his way with her—and she just was not in the mood for any type of pick-up right now.

"It's really none of your business," She snapped, "But Wes and I just broke up."

His eyes widened in surprise for a second, then softened down to a sympathetic look as he stepped closer to her. "Sorry to hear that." He murmured, and Tabitha was taken aback by the sincerity she heard in his voice. Of all people, she did not expect Derek Seigerson, the well-known playboy of Dalton Academy, to sympathize with a girl who went through a break up.

"Yeah." She nodded awkwardly, stuffing her hands into her coat pocket, all of the sudden feeling vulnerable.

Sure enough, Derek casually walked closer to her and placed a strong hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "It's going to be okay you know," He paused and looked into her eyes, "A break up just means there is someone out there better for you. Someone who can bring back the happy, incredibly sarcastic Tabitha."

The girl scoffed but smiled slightly at his attempt to make her feel better, even though she knew that he was hardly doing it to see her smile—he was Derek Seigerson, not her mom—not Wes. She tightened her arms across her chest as a chilly breeze swept across the pair. She glanced up at Derek and, deciding to humor him, returned, "Like who?"

Derek grinned proudly and his eyebrows peaked, "Like me."

Tabitha rolled her eyes, no longer annoyed by him, but rather, she was feeling quite amused by him. And to be quite honest, she felt _flattered_. He was Derek Seigerson, after all.

And perhaps it was because she was lonely and upset, but for all she knew, she could quite possibly fall in love with Derek. And who was she to pass up such an opportunity?

"You think so, huh?" She countered, shifting a bit closer to him.

The athlete nodded cheekily, "Sure do. I've been trying to tell you that for some time but—"

"I was dating Wes—"

"And I was surprised when you didn't take me up on my offer—"

"_You mean multiple offers_—"

"But if you let me I could show you I'm so much better than _that_ Windsor."

"And how would you do that, exactly?" Tabitha asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Derek gave her a sideways glance out of surprise and returned, "I don't give away my secrets—you'll have to let me show you to find out."

Tabitha took a deep breath, but succumbed, "Guess I will, won't I?"

He grinned, "So I'll pick you up on Saturday at seven, then?"

Tabitha's eyes widened at the date. That was… so soon. She may be a bitch and a pain in the ass at times, but the girl had feelings, and like every other girl on the planet who had ever gone through a break-up, she needed time to grieve. But, on the other hand, she recognized that Derek was right—sometimes a break up meant that there was someone out there who was superior, who could give you what you needed. Someone waiting just for you. And maybe, in some universe, that person was Derek.

Her eyes met Derek's eager posture and she sighed as she nodded, "Saturday sounds great."

"Perfect—just like you." He smiled and looked down at his watch. He glanced back to Tabitha with a regretful aspect, "Shoot, I have class soon," He pointed at her playfully, "Don't bail on me last minute. I've heard about you, Tabitha, you're one to play games."

Tabitha flipped her hair behind her shoulder and returned, "Says the boy who played almost all of the girls at Dobry, and more than half of the female population at St. Patrick's."

Derek's attentive expression grew and he leaned back, "Well well, looks like you seem to be feeling better already. See, I told you I'd bring you back out of your slump."

Tabitha pushed him impishly, "Screw you, Seigerson."

"Name the place and time, sweetheart, and your wish is my command." He grinned cheekily at her and she laughed, waving him away,

"Goodbye, Derek!"

"See you Saturday!" He called and waved as he began his job back to Stuart.

She shook her head as his back faced her and proceeded to walk to her car. _Maybe dating Derek won't be such a bad thing after all._

* * *

><p>Logan Wright walked into Warblers hall, feeling his tense shoulders lower themselves as he dropped his bag tiredly next to the grand piano, where he took a seat.<p>

He had always considered a piano his musical companion, and also a very dear friend. The piano always had something to say—the soft tones of the higher keys or the harsh tones of the lower keys spoke to the Stuart prefect in ways he would never be able to describe.

The piano was also an amazing listener. It listened as Logan sang from his heart about the troubles in his life. It listened without one complaint, or eye roll or scoff. It listened when no one else would.

At the present, the boy seated at the piano was distraught over a simple phone call that he had just endured with his father—an event that was never pleasant. Like every other phone call, things got ugly. The senator assumed the worst of his son as always. He expressed no hope for him, belligerently calling him out on the mistakes of his past. And that was when Logan lost it.

And these phone calls were nothing new. However, Logan did find them to be tiring.

Logan greatly disliked his relationship with his father. Though his father did some horrible things to him in his past, he was still Logan's dad, and though it was hard for him to convey, Logan _did_ love him. But sometimes, Logan questioned his father's feelings toward him. Did he love him, or did he feel forced to take care of him since Logan's real mother wasn't around? Was he really just a massive burden?

Logan winced as the pain that drew him to the piano wound its way around his heart. He pressed his long fingers to the black and white keys, taking a deep breath before pressing down firmly on the first chord.

Melodic sound filled the hall as his long, delicate fingers grazed the piano keys easily. Logan closed his eyes at the sound of the music, leaning back and taking a deep breath.

"_I realize it was only just a dream."_

He heard a foul note, and slammed his fingers harshly against the keys, shaking his head and cursing soundly, blaming his problems with his father for the mistake (because it was never because of his skill. _Never_). He took another deep breath and sang,

"_I realize it was only just a_—damnit!"

He ran his hand through his hair and rested his head against the piano. The boy pressed his forehead against the cool surface of it, as if it was going to give him the power to play the correct notes. Logan began to regret coming to the hall. The piano wasn't particularly making him feel better this time around.

He lifted his head and sat up straight, determined to get the notes right. Logan placed his fingers on the keys and started again, singing in tune with the harmony,

_I was thinking bout her, thinkin bout me_

_Thinkin bout us, what we gon' be_

_Open my eyes yeah, it was only Just a dream_

_So I travelled back, down that road_

_Will she come back, no one knows_

_I realize yeah, it was only Just a dream—_

He opened his eyes slowly, satisfied that he hadn't messed up the keys. He immediately stopped however, when his green eyes were met with a pair of blue ones. He stared at the boy, who was awkwardly standing at the doorway, trying to find words to say,

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to run in." He stuttered.

Logan's hard stare softened at his uneasy gesture. Of course, he recognized the boy as Kurt Hummel—Blaine's new boy toy.

He looked him up and down and gave him an easy smile, suddenly feeling a whimsical fluttering inside of his stomach.

Logan had gotten quick glances at the countertenor while he roamed the halls the past few days, but he never had the chance to genuinely look at him—to see him over the cloud of hate that embodied him whenever Kurt was with Blaine Anderson.

But now, at this moment, when it was just the two of them, Logan was able to see Kurt—to see everything.

And time stopped for Logan at the sight he saw.

There were many things about Kurt that struck him; his porcelain skin, his infectious smile, and his petite, strong figure that Logan immediately wanted to hold onto and never give back.

And then there were his eyes; the deep blue orbs that gleamed at Logan from across the room made the prefect question how on earth a human being could be so beautiful—so _perfect_—and live in an incredibly boring state like Ohio.

As their eyes met again, the haze that consumed Logan started to clear up, and the sharpest image he could vision was the boy that was making his way towards the piano.

He was like an angel that was sent from above.

And Logan was now determined to make Kurt Hummel his guardian angel.

* * *

><p>Derek wound up his towel after his much needed shower and whipped it on the back of Kappa's legs. He smirked as he heard Kappa yelp in surprise and grab the back of his legs in agony. He whipped around with anger very present in his eyes, but when he saw Derek's easy composure, his eyes softened and he grinned.<p>

"Well, it looks like someone is having a good day," He laughed as Derek practically skipped to his varsity locker, pulling out his school uniform.

Derek grinned, peeking over at Kappa from behind his locker, "I guess you could say that."

Kappa opened his mouth to speak again, but shut it abruptly when he heard noise come from the back entrance of the locker room. Derek and Kappa both turned to the source of the sound. The voices neared and the two boys recognized them as none other than the rest of the Crew team,

"I thought you were banned from the Science Lab—" Derek noticed Jon walking behind Andrew, pushing him forward to get him to his own locker faster.

"Only _temporarily_," Andrew reminded his roommate, "and I needed to get in there anyway, I have to check on my experiment every few hours—!"

"But weren't Drew and Satoru supposed to be helping you too?" Burke's locker was across from Derek's, and the Captain had to turn his head to catch sight of his other teammate, who was now pulling off his shirt and reaching into his locker for his blazer.

Grayson, who had walked in during the conversation, spoke as he pulled out, based on his disgusted look, a large pile of dirty clothes from his locker, "Yeah! Why can't they check on it too?"

With an eye roll and a dismissive wave of his hand, Andrew replied, "_You know how preoccupied Windsor's can be_!"

This comment earned a respected and agreeing groan from his teammates, and Andrew nodded happily as he fished into his own Varsity locker for his school uniform.

Kappa smiled weakly as he looked at the back entrance of the locker room and saw Cal emerge, walking tiredly with his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He returned Kappa's grin with one of his own and set his bag down on the bench next to his own locker, which was next to his best friends.

"Hey buddy," Kappa said easily, "Workouts get the best of you today?"

Cal groaned and wound his arm, massaging his shoulder, "Yeah, I don't know what it is. Must be distracted or something—"

Kappa smirked and looked to Derek, "Speaking of distracted, Seigerson over here looked like he was a bit distracted during practice too. Care to explain, oh Captain of ours?"

Derek grinned wickedly, "Well boys, I've done what you thought was impossible. I have achieved what every straight guy here and at St. Patrick's wants to achieve. I have—"

"For Christ's sake, spit it out already!" Jon said impatiently from the back of the locker room.

Derek grinned and looked back to his team, "I scored a date with Tabitha!"

Derek smirked victoriously as the locker room whooped and hollered; a few even managing to give Derek a pat on the back or a high five. Theodore raced to the front of the locker room where Derek was, his voice squeaking with excitement and admiration.

"So how did it happen?" Theodore asked excitedly, his eyes the size of an opossum's or some other small, fluffy animal.

Derek raised his nose slightly in the air, boasting, "Well, she sought me out, _of course,_ as I was out on my run this morning." He raised his voice as he noticed all of the occupants of the locker room were watching him now.

He continued, "She came to me, crying, telling me her stupid Windsor of a boyfriend and her had broke up. Naturally, she simply fell into my arms, and accepted a date with me without even a second thought!" Derek announced.

Cal shook his head in disbelief and patted Derek on the shoulder, "Oh, I'm _sure_ that's how it went. That sounds so unrealistic—almost like a Lifetime movie." He said jokingly.

"And how would you know? Spend your time watching chick flicks, Morrel?" Rodney called from the back of the locker room

"Yeah, when was the last time_ you_ went out on a date?" Derek asked, taking his boxers out of his locker and putting them on underneath the towel.

Cal shrugged uncomfortably, his face flushing with heat as he saw the other boys staring at him, "Well, I—"

"Are you kidding, D?" The boys turned to see Rodney making his way to the front of the locker room, tying his tie around his neck, "Didn't you know? Cal doesn't date."

Grayson perked up from the bench he was sitting on and he looked at Cal, "Why not?" He questioned, "I mean, you can take your time but you can't wear that chastity belt forever!"

Some of the boys chuckled, while Kappa had to hold onto his locker to keep himself from doubling over in hilarity. He was laughing so hard, he failed to notice Cal's hurt and distraught look.

Uneasiness shot through Cal's heart as the boys began talking about his lack of dating. _Who do they think they are—telling me how to live my life? Why do they care so much and why can't they just leave me alone?_

Cal cleared his throat unnervingly and pulled on his blazer over his dress shirt as he heard Kappa speak,

"I've been trying to tell Cal for some time now that he needs to get out there, but he won't listen to me!"

Cal groaned, and muttered in a hushed tone to Kappa, "Do we really have to talk about this _now_—"

"Why not? Come on Cal, we're all friends here, what's the big deal?" Kappa returned, his attention being brought back to Rodney,

"I say we all go out to that club down the street and show Cal a good time!"

"Yeah!" Kappa said, his eyes wide with excitement as he patted Cal on the back, "What do you say, Cal?"

Cal shifted uncomfortably, "I think you guys should stop—"

"I think we should do it!" Derek exclaimed, tying his shoelaces atop the bench, smiling gently at Cal.

Mutters of agreement and excitement filled the locker room, and Cal could feel some anger boiling up inside of him. He took a deep breath and spoke in the calmest way he could muster,

"Guys, really, you don't have to do anything—"

"Oh why not?" Andrew said, tossing his bag over his shoulder and walking towards the front of the locker room again, "Come on, you need to get out!" He slapped Cal's back as he exited the room.

"No, really, I'm fine—" Cal managed to peep.

"No you're not! You're 17 years old! You need to start living!" Kappa interrupted his friend, his eyes bulging as he smiled wildly.

"I don't—"

"Just leave it to me—" Kappa muttered to him.

"_Nate, seriously_, _stop it_!"

The locker room silenced at Cal's outburst, and Kappa's eyes were wide with confusion at his best friends' use of his first name,

"Cal, I didn't think—"

"Yeah, you're right, you didn't." Cal was seething—of all people, he thought Kappa would be the one who defended Cal; not agree with the other guys on how he should date. He expected the rest of his team to act this way, not Kappa, especially not after the conversation they had right before the party. Why didn't he listen? He never listened!

Kappa's eyes were filled with worry, but Cal didn't care. He was about to speak more of his mind when Grayson interrupted, glancing carefully at the co-captain,

"Hey, look, Cal, don't worry about it, alright? You'll probably get more ass than Rodney does, even if your first date is at thirty."

"Hey!" Rodney shouted defensively from where he was standing, "That's not fair, at least I actually get girls, unlike Cal—"

"Only because you are such a _man whore_ that everybody knows it. At least Cal has class—" Grayson retorted, pointing to Cal.

"Oh _please_!"

"Guys, come on now, is this really necessary—?" Cal looked up and saw Theo running to the fighting pair, trying to get in between the two.

"Theo, how many times do I have to tell you; don't get in the middle of their fighting!" Derek said, pushing Theo out of the way of the two hostile friends. "Burke, when you're done kindly take Theo to his class—"

"Alright, captain—" Burke nodded.

"I'm not a child, Derek!" Theo protested.

"Then stop acting like one! I know you're a freshman but have some common sense, kid! You could have gotten hurt and we would have been a rower short!" Derek threw his hands up in the air.

Cal rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh and slammed his locker harshly and ignoring the other conversations taking place in the locker room.

Embarrassment and anger bubbled through his body, and as much as he tried to calm himself down, the thoughts of the conversation only made him angrier. He realized Kappa would try to talk to him about the whole discussion, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

After Derek pulled Theo away from Grayson and Rodney, he walked over to the coxswain and put a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Hey Cal, I hope you know we were only—"

"Trying to help?" Cal finished, his eyes narrowing. "You're not helping. You're making things worse for me."

He looked down at his watch, and said in a clipped tone, "I have to go; I'm going to be late for class." He sighed sadly and turned on his heel, "I'll see you later."

Cal gave a distant look to Kappa, who was watching the whole exchange, and exited the locker room without another glance back.

* * *

><p>"Do you think he's mad at me?"<p>

Derek ran a hand through his hair and looked over at the Kappa, who was glancing nervously at him. They had just gotten out of the locker room and were heading to their school lockers.

He sighed as the events in the locker room replayed in his mind, and he shrugged, "Well I mean if I were Cal, I might be a little bit… _annoyed_ about the whole thing."

Kappa groaned, "Well why should he be annoyed? I was only trying to help!"

"I know that, but he probably thought you were attacking him."

"But I wasn't!"

"I know that, but he doesn't." Derek groaned as he watched Kappa face palm himself, "I am actually worried about him, I've never seen him that mad before."

Kappa shook his head, "Me neither. I've never even heard him say my first name before, except for the first time we met." He exhaled deeply, "This is not good."

Derek nodded, "I know, I can't have two teammates fighting, especially if one of those is _my co-captain_!" Derek's head started running through all of the worst case scenarios that could happen if this situation got worse. He waved a frustrated hand through his hair and tugged at it slightly, as if pulling his hair would erase all of the thoughts he was having.

No such luck.

Kappa dragged a hand over his face and mumbled miserably, "I know, I know."

"You're his best friend," Derek continued, images of his own two best friends flashing in his mind. "Didn't you notice something was off with him at all? I mean, you've known him forever—hasn't this conversation come up before?"

Kappa shrugged uncomfortably, "No, I mean, yes, it has—actually, it did the other night—"

"The other night?" Derek said, snapping his head towards his teammate, a distraught look upon his face, "If it came up the other night, why are we even having this discussion!" If all of this could have been avoided, Derek was going to punch someone, and the odds against Kappa weren't looking too good!

Kappa looked at him worriedly, "I—I don't know okay! I just want him to be happy! He always seems so lonely—am I such a bad friend if I want to change that?"

"No, but maybe that's not the best for him." Derek grunted. "I've never seen him outburst like that. I always thought he didn't date because of his commitment to Crew..." Derek's thoughts wandered to Logan's words just days before, and he shook them away just as quickly as they had come.

Kappa paused and deadpanned, "I've never seen him act like that either…he has been sort of acting weird lately, hasn't he?"

Derek grunted in response, "I don't know—I haven't really been paying attention all that much. Though ever since the party—"

"_Since the party_? That's weird, because Cal and I talked about dating and stuff right before we left for the party..."

Derek's eyebrow rose in surprise, "Really? And what did he say?"

"The same things you heard in the locker room," Kappa smiled softly, "Only he was less angry at me…" Kappa's words drifted along with his mind and Derek groaned, shaking his friend's shoulders.

"Right, anyway," Kappa continued, "So wait—did you notice something at the party? I was a bit drunk, and I don't really remember much about it…"

Derek shrugged, "Well, I saw him talking to Logan—"

"Logan _Wright_?"

"The one and only."

Kappa groaned, "Oh no. Oh _no_. Do you think Logan has something to do with Cal acting so weird?" Kappa stopped cold and turned around to face Derek, his hands gripping the captain's shoulders with full force. Kappa's eyes were wide and full of fear as he spoke in a shaky voice,

"Do you think Logan corrupted Cal's mind?" He asked seriously, his eyes widening with each word. Derek couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous question,

"Are you crazy? No, of course not—"

Kappa inhaled deeply, clearly not reassured, "Derek, you_ know_ Logan is the resident gay on campus."

Derek rolled his eyes, annoyed a little bit, but slight panic struck through him like a lightning bolt. While he was sure Cal was straight, and had no problem if he wasn't, the pure possibility caught Derek off guard. Cal was Derek's closest friend on Crew, so when Kappa referred to Logan's reputation, he could sense the alarm Kappa was feeling. It was kind of hard for the mind not to go there.

Derek however remained calm, and shook his head, "Yes, I know that, I think we all do. But don't make any assumptions until you've actually talked to Cal yourself." Derek straightened his tie and continued, "Also, why do I feel like you wouldn't approve of Cal being…like _that_?"

Kappa shook his head furiously in protest, "No no no! I don't mean that at all! I mean, hello—half of this school is…well you know," Kappa turned his head to see if anyone was listening to their conversation, "_Gay_," He whispered. "But can you blame me for being a little…surprised? Can you blame me for being shocked? He's been my best friend since forever—if he can't even tell me that he's gay, then how good of a friend am I?" He paused, "You know what I mean?"

Derek sighed, nodding in full understanding because hell, he was going through the same thing, "Yeah, I totally get you."

"Hey boys! Wait up!"

The two boys turned around and saw Sped speed walking in their direction. Once he reached the pair, he put a hand on Derek's shoulder,

"Hello boys. How were workouts this morning?"

Kappa shrugged, "Nothing out of the ordinary. Very mundane, actually. I think you should think of a new routine, these workouts are getting quite dull." The boy replied, smirking playfully at the coach.

Sped's eyes narrowed, "Watch it boy." He shot a look to Kappa and then looked over to Derek, "Seigerson, a word?"

Derek gave Kappa an apologetic look and the other boy nodded, "See you Derek."

He nodded and looked back to Sped, "What's up, Sped?"

Sped sighed, "Walk with me."

Derek nodded and slight irritation. He hated taking walks with Sped. While he had a lot of respect for his coach, his "walks" normally turned into lectures about his future and how he should be living his life.

They walked down a hallway and turned a corner before Sped cleared his throat,

"I wanted to talk to you about a scholarship opportunity—"

_Oh great, here we go._

"—and I really think you have a shot at it Derek."

He nodded, "Well what is it?"

"It's a Crew scholarship to Harvard!"

Derek's eyes widened, "Harvard, really? Wow. That's—that's incredible! How were you able to score that one?"

"Well it wasn't easy, but I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy, and that guy convinced the coach of the crew team to scout you out at the next regatta!"

Derek was speechless, he knew he was good at crew, but he didn't realize how much faith Sped had in him. His mind was boggling with excitement and questions, but before he was able to process them, Sped spoke again,

"But if you want it, you have to really bust your ass this season—in school and on the water. You have to keep your GPA up to at least a 3.8. I know you are already on good terms with the Dean, but if you even think about letting your hot-headed attitudes ruin your chances, I swear Derek, I will _make_ you pay." Derek sighed heavily and felt his chest tighten in anticipation.

He knew this was an amazing opportunity for him, and he wanted it badly, but as he began to think of all of his other responsibilities he had to take care of, he wasn't sure if he was ready to begin another one.

"I don't mean to put all of this on you at once," Sped said quickly, seeming to read Derek's mind, "I just think it's such a big break for you. If you want time to think about it, I'll give it to you; I just need to know your final decision soon."

Derek took a deep breath. All of this was so overwhelming for him at first. While the scholarship sounded awesome, he already had a lot on his plate as it was.

_Who am I kidding? I'm Derek Seigerson. I can handle this. It's just one more thing to worry about—how much hurt can it do to me, really?_

Derek looked at Sped who was staring at him with eager and impatient eyes. Sometimes the coach was just like a puppy and Derek couldn't say no to him. The boy nodded and smiled easily at his coach, before holding out his hand for him to shake,

"It sounds awesome to me! What do I need to do?"

* * *

><p>"…<em>a Crew scholarship to Harvard!"<em>

Jon Eagen kicked a nearby locker and threw his bag against it, his heart pounding wildly and his fists clenching.

Andrew, who was watching his roommate, hesitantly walked over to him,

"Uh, Jon? You alright over there?"

The boy shook his head rapidly, "Life isn't fair, Noller."

Andrew scoffed, "You are telling me." He muttered.

"Seigerson gets to have everything, doesn't he?" Jon shook his head in disbelief and kicked a locker again, grunting angrily. Andrew looked at him with confusion,

"What do you mean?"

"His life is just so damn perfect, and he just has to rub it in everyone's face!"

Andrew nodded, "Ah, you're talking about what happened in the locker room—"

"He just thinks he's hot shit, I have no respect for people who are like that, you know? He needs to get over himself."

Andrew shrugged, "Well I mean, the whole thing with Tabitha is kind of awesome…"

"Shut up, Andrew."

Andrew rolled his eyes, "I still don't see what you have against him. He's never done anything wrong to you."

Jon stopped cold and turned around to face Andrew slowly, "I thought I told you—he's just a prick _to everyone."_ He growled.

"Doesn't mean you have to hate him…" Andrew said, flinching away from Jon when he spun around.

"And_ then_," Jon continued, ignoring Andrew, "He gets an opportunity to be scouted by the coaches from Harvard? Seriously? What is Sped _thinking_?" He spat.

Andrew shrugged tentatively, "He's probably thinking Derek deserves it."

Jon scoffed, "And he thinks I don't?"

Andrew gave him an annoyed look, "Jon, you're training for the fucking Olympics—_of course he doesn't think you need it_. You've already got your life planned and set for you."

Jon shook his head and shook his hand dismissively, "You wouldn't understand." He muttered.

"Well then tell me so I do understand! You know, I am so sick and tired of you verbally hating on the guy when I don't even know why—"

"Shut up, Andrew." He spun around quickly to face him and whispered threateningly, "You know what _I _know about _you_. Do you really want the rest of the school to know, too? You want the team to know? What do you think that'll do to the rest of them?"

Andrew breathed a defeated sigh and shook his head slowly.

"Good," Jon said, "So if you want to keep it that way, you will not ask any questions. And you'll continue to help me bring him down, you got that?" He snapped.

Andrew took a deep breath but glared at Jon, "Yeah, whatever."

"Good." Jon narrowed his eyes and turned on his heel, and started to walk away, heading to the only place where he knew he could release his anger.

* * *

><p>Burke had one hand placed over his mouth as he glanced down at Theo, who also had a look of pure astonishment on his face as they secretly watched the Olympic trainee and his accomplice shuffle away from the locker bank from behind a large column.<p>

The two boys looked at each other, one nodding to the other in understanding, and rushed to their respective classes—their minds consumed with questions and worries about their fellow teammates.

* * *

><p>Derek raced down the hallway, on a search for Logan. He needed to express his excitement to someone, and as his best friend, he was going to force Logan to sit down and listen to him, even though the prefect highly disliked sports. The more he thought about it, the more excited he got. Who could have predicted—a possible Crew scholarship to an Ivy League? An Ivy League! His dream come true, doing a sport he loved, and his dream came discounted. So what if he had to do a little more work than normal? A little more training never hurt anyone, he could just stay up a little later to do his normal school work, drink a little more coffee…<p>

The first place Derek went to check was Warbler's hall, and sure enough, he heard Logan's voice echo form the room,

"_I realize it was only just a dream."_

He smiled softly as he heard the voice, his body settling as it always did whenever he heard Logan sing. Something was different about it this time too. It hadn't sounded so pure and unaltered in a long time. Logan was really singing, like he hadn't for months. But Derek's face quickly fell as he heard another voice come from the hall,

"_I realize it was only just a dream."_

He stopped a few feet before the entrance of the room and watched as Blaine Anderson approached the hall and look through the door. Derek could see Blaine's triangular eyebrows furrow and a growl-like expression flash across his face as he too listened in on Logan and the other boy singing. Derek glanced ahead of Blaine and saw other Windsor's trailing behind him, all sharing the same irked expression Blaine was sporting. He shook his head and leaned against the nearby wall, waiting for the Windsors to clear the area before he went in, all the while thinking about his own exciting news.

Once he noticed the singing stopped, he saw Blaine immediately enter the Hall. He swallowed as he heard a bit of conversation between Logan, Blaine, and a higher pitched voice which he couldn't place.

He glanced back to the rest of the Windsor clan and saw the displeased looks on their faces. Derek smirked at that, as he found some delight in seeing the Windsors in discomfort. He leaned on his heels for a few moments until he saw Blaine and the other boy, Kurt Hummel, exit the hall.

Derek's curiosity was increasing as he saw the two boys hold each other's hand and walk towards the opposite end of the hallway with the rest of the Windsors in tow.

_I wonder what that was all about._

He waited a few moments before entering Warbler's Hall, and was not surprised to see Logan staring distantly into the window that was near the grand piano, brooding as Logan often liked to do. Derek rolled his eyes, but nothing could bring him down from his good mood.

"First time I've heard you sing with anyone in a long time."

"I know…I got too interested." Logan said simply, still gazing out the window.

"The Windsor guys didn't look happy," Derek muttered casually. "Especially Blaine. I thought he was going to throw a fit when I saw them listening in on you two."

"Really." Logan said, "…that's so interesting."

Derek gave him a suspicious look but nodded slowly, "Yeah…I guess. If that's what you call interesting." When Logan didn't answer, and just kept staring, Derek continued, "Anyway, I have to tell you—"

"—What do you think of Kurt Hummel, Derek?" Logan said, finally turning his head away from the window to look at him.

Caught off guard by his question, Derek was silent for a few moments before speaking, "Well, I mean—I don't know him, but he seems alright, I guess. He's a Windsor so…why?"

Logan shrugged, "He's just curious to me."

Derek nodded, "Ah, gotcha." He said quickly before continuing, "Anyway, I have some news—"

"I _really_ like him, Derek." Logan said seriously, interrupting Derek. Logan's deep green eyes were now piercing Derek and the look was all too familiar to the athlete. "I sang with him and it was like—his voice reached me through the haze."

He sighed as realization dawned on him; Logan Wright was once again, utterly in love. His news, on the tip of his tongue, receded.

"That's great, Logan," Derek said, tucking away his sigh and trying his best to give a damn. "Really great."

* * *

><p>Cal readjusted his bag over his shoulder and stuck his Dalton blazer inside of it, sweating from the warm fall air that lingered as the skies darkened. The words that were said to him in the weight room haunted his mind—they replayed over and over in his head like a broken record.<p>

What he still didn't understand was why—why everyone had taken such an interest in him and his love life. Kappa he understood, they were best friends and best friends told each other that kind of stuff. But he didn't appreciate how Kappa almost threw him into a situation he didn't want to be a part of.

Kappa was always discussing his love life with him ("I'm telling you—I'm going to meet the love of my life in no time!"), and he always felt horribly for never having anything to say about his own love life, or lack thereof.

It wasn't that Cal didn't want to start going out on dates, he just didn't know… _how_ to date.

_Or who to date._

His palms began to sweat and he gripped his bag strap tighter, he squinted his eyes shut as the image of his green-eyed prefect flashed in his mind. It was true, ever since his conversation with Logan at the party, Cal had seemed a bit...on edge. The problem was that he wasn't even sure why he was acting so differently, though he had a hunch.

Logan Wright was sort of driving him crazy.

Every word Logan said to him at the party stuck to him like glue. And that conversation he had with him was making him question everything he ever thought about himself and relationships. It was like a constant whirlwind in his head, bombarding him over and over. He didn't get even a second to rest. Logan had opened Pandora's box; there was no going back.

And if there was no going back, then he just had to escape to some place else.

Soon enough, Cal found himself at the lake—the one place where no one would ask him questions, interrogate him or judge him. As he got closer to the dock, he noticed another figure sitting in the Dalton Academy official row boat.

_He must be from the team,_ Cal concluded, _but who is it?_

As he gained a better view, he noticed that the teammate in the boat practicing strokes was none other than Jon Eagen.

Cal never had a problem with Jon, like Derek or the rest of the teammates did. Though he knew that Jon was the resident asshole on the crew team, Cal always tried to identify with him—relate in any way he could. Cal knew there must be something that made him act the way he did. He was never one to be rude when he didn't know the whole story. Plus, as coxswain and co-captain, it was kind of his job to keep everyone together. And he wanted to do that job right.

He watched with intent eyes as Jon's muscles contracted as he dry rowed the oar. Out of all of the rowers on the team, Cal, as a Cox, noticed that Jon always had trouble with his drive and feathering—Jon most of the time failed to rotate the oar just as it was coming out of the water at the perfect angle. And while sometimes he did so, Cal noticed this movement was not always consistent—and consistency is what Cal looked for in his boys. Cal's light eyes grew in surprise when Jon threw the oar in frustration, cursing loudly,

"Goddamnit!"

Cal watched as the dark haired boy put his head in his hands and groaned. The Coxswain cleared his throat, "You need to watch your angle."

The boy turned around and his eyes narrowed when he noticed Cal standing a few feet from where he was. Jon groaned, half-embarrassed that someone saw his flaw, and half-irritated that someone had interrupted him.

"This isn't practice, Morrel—you don't have to coach me, I know what I'm doing." He retorted as he turned around to face the water, refusing to meet Cal's gaze.

Cal raised his hands up in defense, smiling slightly, "I never said you didn't, Jon. I just figured I could help you—"

"I don't _need_ your help," Jon scoffed, "I'm training for—"

"The Olympics, we _know_." Cal gave an exasperated sigh, "But even trainee's need work. That's the whole point of being one, isn't it?" He walked closer to the boat, dropping his bag to the ground and loosening his tie. He picked up the oar and handed it back to Jon forcefully, "Try it again."

Jon glared up at him, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me—_try it again_. Do you want to be the guy who messed everything up for the team because he couldn't get _feathering_ right, Mr. Olympics?"

Jon's silence answered his question. Cal attempted to hand the oar back to him, but he refused it. In a lower voice, Cal said, "I didn't think so. Now try. It. Again."

Jon felt heat flush through his cheeks as he scowled at the oar Cal was shoving at him. He snarled, finally snatching it out of Cal's hand and putting it into position. He sat there for a breath before he looked up at Cal with an impatient look.

"Well, are you going to help me or what?"

Cal rolled his eyes and nodded, "Yeah, well, you need to row before I can help you, you know." He pointed out.

Jon took a deep breath and rowed—his body lunged forward, and his knees bent as he felt his seat shift forward. He pulled back swiftly and his legs extended, but he cringed as he felt his wrists not roll completely, thus causing his oar to not turn at the perfect 90 degree angle that he strived for. He stopped and looked up at Cal, who had a confused expression on his face.

"I don't see why you're not—hang on."

He shrugged off his tie, wrapped it around his arm, and rolled up his sleeves before climbing into the boat behind Jon. He set his feet in the wood boat and reached over to grab Jon's wrists. Jon flinched slightly as Cal's cold hands gripped his wrist.

"Okay," He huffed, and Jon twitched as he felt Cal's breath on his ear, "Try it again, but slower this time."

Jon did as he was told, and once he got to the feathering, Cal gripped his wrist harshly and turned it so the oar was at the perfect angle. Jon finished the stroke and breathed deeply. He turned his head so he could look at Cal.

"That's all I need to do?" Jon asked.

Cal grinned back at him and nodded, "That's all you need to do." He stated in a reassuring voice.

Jon forced a smile and looked back in front of him, once again refusing to meet Cal's soft eyes. He shook his head and racked his brain for something that could change the subject,

"So, what are you even doing here, anyways?"

Jon felt Cal move uncomfortably behind him, and the warmth of the coxswain's hands around his wrists left as he pulled away.

Cal ran an uneasy hand through his hair and sighed. "I needed to be alone."

"Well that didn't work out too well for you, did it?" Jon mocked, placing the oar softly in the boat and stretching out his legs.

Cal nodded, "Yeah, guess not."

Jon turned to face him, hearing the sudden disdain in his voice. This was new to him—Cal was never one to show contempt. On the contrary, Cal liked everyone and was so damn nice that it annoyed Jon sometimes. _At least he isn't an egotistical prick like Derek._

Jon rested his elbows on his knees, surprisingly intrigued and he spoke in a low, quiet voice. "Why did you need to be alone?"

He saw Cal look at him and then look back at his feet, playing with his tie that was now draped over his hand, "I didn't feel like seeing Kappa in the dorm, or anyone at Stuart, for that matter."

Jon smirked, "Ah, trouble in paradise, I see?"

Cal rolled his eyes, "No—well—no, just, he's—he doesn't get me when it comes to…_certain_ things."

Jon leaned back, a sarcastic eyebrow raised at the Coxswain in front of him, "Like what? You guys have been friends for disgustingly too long for him to not understand you," Jon returned.

Cal shrugged, unsure of whether he should even be discussing the issue, let alone discussing it with Jon Eagen. Didn't he come here to get away in the first place? Whatever. He figured if he held his feelings in for too long he might take it out on the wrong person.

And if he was going to yell at anyone, the best person was probably the most belligerent person on the team.

"Why I don't—erm, or rather—why I _haven't _dated much."

Jon's face tightened and his lips formed a thin line as he rested his hand on the back of his neck—a habit he tended to display whenever he felt uncomfortable. Of all people, why did Cal have to choose him to talk about feelings?

Jon rocked on his heels, "Well, why haven't you? It seems like a simple question to me."

"It is simple—too simple, and that's why it's so hard. I just haven't—" he paused, his face flushing red as the words struggled in his throat. And I am so fucking sick and tired of the guys being up my ass about it. Like why do they give so much of a shit anyway? You know what I mean?"

_Woah_. Jon was completely taken aback by the attitude Cal was giving. He had never seen the guy curse, let alone be in any type of an angry state. He felt sympathy as he watched the boy in front of him breathe heavily, his chest rising and falling quickly.

Jon sighed and smacked Cal's shoulder, his eyes locking with the other boys, "You gotta get over it, Morrel. Look, those guys gossip like those old ladies on _The Golden Girls_. You _know_ how much shit they say about me," He gave Cal a knowing look, "and I don't give a rat's ass about it."

"I know, but—"

"But nothing!" Jon held his hand up to silence Cal and he continued, "It's your life, Cal. You have to make of it what you want to make of it. You don't want to date—then to each his own, man. Don't let those pricks in the locker room tell you otherwise."

Cal saw the determination and sincerity in Jon's demeanor and grunted defiantly, "Yeah—yeah! You're right. I won't. Why should I let them dictate how I live my love life?"

Jon snapped his fingers and for the first time, Cal saw him genuinely smile, "Exactly!"

Cal nodded and laughed, wrapping his tie back around his neck, keeping it loose. He was somewhat excited that Jon was opening up to him more and that now it wasn't just Andrew who got to see a different side of him. He studied Jon for a few moments before speaking again, his voice hushed, "Do you really think everyone on the team is a prick?"

Jon shrugged, "Not everyone, just the captain." He frowned and his eyes narrowed as the all-star athlete crossed his mind.

Cal scratched his head, "But…why? Derek definitely has his ego, but what has he ever done to you?"

Jon seethed, "It's nothing for you to worry about."

"But I'm the co—"

"Captain." Jon finished, his blood beginning to boil. That fact was suddenly all too apparent. Right, captain, coxswain, and Derek's right-hand man. All of a sudden, it didn't matter that Cal was actually kinda cool. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, opening them as he ran his hand through his hair.

"Just… don't worry about it, Morrel. It really isn't your concern. You said you don't want people peeping into your life? I feel the same way." The raven haired boy snapped at the now-startled Cal, whose sudden excitement at a 'new Jon' dropped significantly. _Some people just don't change, I guess._

"Right, sorry." Cal murmured quietly. He got up from his seat in front of Jon and stepped out of the boat, picking up his bag from off of the ground and slinging it back on his shoulder. The awkward tension was building fast and he wanted to leave the dock as fast as possible. He directed his attention back to Jon.

"Uh…if you practice what I just showed you, the repetition will help your wrist gain muscle memory, and you'll be doing it naturally within a week or two," He told him.

Jon nodded curtly in response, "Yeah."

Cal moved, "Just practice it so you don't screw us up at the regatta." Cal said as he began to walk away when Jon called out after him,

"It won't be me who screws up!" He was surprised at how defensive his voice had become, but this went unnoticed by Cal,

"If you don't practice, it will be!" The other boy returned with a nonchalant wave.

Jon fought back the urge to give Cal an obscene gesture behind his back, and instead he settled into his seat on the boat again, picking up the oar and going through the motions Cal had showed him at a rapid pace. He was gripping the oar so hard he was sure he would have blisters by the end of the night, but he didn't care.

_I cannot be the guy who screws this up._

* * *

><p>Thanks so much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed it!<p>

Love, Raven x~


	4. Crossing Paths

**Author's Note:** Well hello, all of you fellow Coult members. I have to apologize-it has been a few months since I've updated. But, I didn't abandon this story, as I still love it and adore it, and I've finally got this approved by my beta, Lauryl! Yay! :) So, I hope you like it! :)

**Guys, read the disclaimer.**

_Disclaimer: A bit different this time—to go along with the storyline of Dalton, some dialogue from actual canon!Dalton is used (to show reactions of such dialogue from another point of view). From here on out, this situation will be occurring more and more. Of course, those words, if you recognize them, do not belong to me—they belong to Miss CP Coulter, and can be found in Chapter Three of her story.. I also do not own any of her characters, like Derek Seigerson and Logan Wright. I also don't own Glee, Kurt Hummel or Blaine Anderson as they belong to Fox and the RIB clan._

* * *

><p><strong>Stuart<strong>

**Chapter Four: Crossing Paths**

* * *

><p>"What the <em>hell<em> was that about?"

It was very late into the evening, but the library still held few occupants as Murdoch's paper deadline grew closer and closer. Tensions were running high, but unlike the rest of the students that were in the library, Theo and Burke had more things to worry about than Murdoch's grueling assignment.

"I—I don't know!" Little Theo stuttered, his voice hushed to a whisper as he heard Mrs. Abernathy's tall heel stalk briskly past their table. "What could Jon be holding against Andrew?"

Burke shook his dark hair out of his eyes and dragged a hand over his face, "I don't know either! More importantly, what the _fuck_ is Jon thinking trying to ruin Derek—?"

"We don't know that's what Jon is trying to do…" Theo said hesitantly, trying not to jump to any conclusions. Clearly, Burke did not share the same concern, as his eyebrows shot up in utter disbelief.

"Are you kidding me, man? You may be a freshman but I thought you had _some_ common sense!" Burke rolled his eyes and continued, "Jon _said_—"

"I know what he said!" Theo retorted, "I was there, remember? But just because Jon said he wanted to 'bring him down' doesn't necessarily mean—"

"Are you kidding me, Theo? You know how Jon is and you know how much he hates Derek! I'm actually surprised it's taken him this long to do something about his pent-up anger."

Theo sighed and leaned back into his chair, shooting a quick glance at Mrs. Abernathy, whose head had shot up at Burke's last outburst. He smiled tentatively at her, and the librarian narrowed her eyes but looked away from the two boys. Theo looked at Burke, who was leaning over the table they were sitting at.

"Listen," Burke continued, "You know just as well as I do that Jon is a man of conviction, and once he sets his mind to something, he's _going_ to go through with it—"

"That doesn't mean…"

"It means," Burke held up a hand, silencing the younger boy, "that whatever Jon has up his sleeve is going to put Derek in danger, or get him in a lot of trouble. And we can't let that happen! He's our captain, and he deserves that spot!" He looked at Theo, "Don't you agree?"

"Y—yes, of course." Theo nodded adamantly. He worshipped Derek Seigerson, and it was ridiculous—in his mind anyway—for Burke to suggest otherwise. Of course Derek deserved the thought! Derek was like Superman!

"And don't you think it would only be right if we, his dedicated teammates, were always there for our captain?" Burke said, gaining confidence in his words and his influence over Theo.

"Yes."

"And don't you _think_," Burke continued, "it's in everyone's best interest if we figure out what is going on?"

"Wait…"

"No, no waiting. There is no time. We don't know when Jon is going to strike."

"Uh…Burke?"

"What?"

"Are you sure we are doing the right thing?" Theo said timidly, "I mean, we don't even know what exactly is going on? And I share a house with these guys, man. I would like to live to see graduation! This really isn't our business—"

Burke smiled, "Theodore. Of course it's our business. We're a team. And yeah, we don't know what's going on, but like you said, you do live in Hanover…"

Theo stared at Burke, and the other boy just grinned, "Alright freshman, here is what we are going to do…"

* * *

><p>Derek awoke the next morning to the sound of harsh banging on his bedroom door.<p>

"Derek? Derek? Deerrrreeeeek!" The boy in question groaned as he stood up to answer the door, assuming it was one of his one-night-stands he conquered the week before. He began to rack his brain for names and faces as he opened the door, but found the action was unnecessary.

"Logan?" Pretty sure he hadn't slept with this one.

The blonde raised an intrigued eyebrow at Derek's sleepy state and smirked, "Did I wake you up from your beauty sleep, princess?"

Derek rolled his eyes and turned back into his room, leaving the door open as an invitation for Logan to come in. "What do you want, Lo?"

Derek turned around and was met with a brown envelope. Logan shoved the envelope into Derek's hands and he smiled, "I need you to give this to Kurt Hummel."

The statement fully alerted Derek, "What? Kurt—Kurt _Hummel_? Why? And why me?" He weighed the envelope in his hands as he watched his friend walk over to the window. He gazed out of it thoughtfully, which made Derek roll his eyes. Seriously, when did Logan become so intrigued by the damn trees outside!

"You know _Windsor_," Logan returned distantly, "They won't appreciate me going there, what with our history," Logan chuckled as an afterthought, which gave Derek not so pleasant chills.

"Okay," Derek said, "But I'm in Stuart too, you know—they won't necessarily appreciate my presence, either."

Logan made a face and waved him off, disregarding his concern, "Yeah, but better you than me, I think. Plus, your ex-boyfriend doesn't live there—"

"Thank god," Derek muttered, his mind wandering to the hospital visits he would have to endure if any of his exes lived on campus.

Logan nodded, "Yeah, so you see what I mean."

Derek shook his head, placing the envelope on his desk, eyeing it carefully. He groaned at the thought of Logan getting into yet another fight with Blaine, considering all of the drama he caused the year before. He didn't understand why Logan had to go after that hobbit's guy! He knew Logan was smart, but when it came to romance and relationships, sometimes Derek thought he was as clueless as Steve Erkel.

What was more unnerving was the fact that even if Logan decided to pursue Kurt, Derek knew it would end in heartbreak, because Logan didn't see what Derek saw. And that was the look Kurt gave Blaine when they left the hall together. It was the look Logan gave to Blaine when they dated. It was the look Logan gave to Josh, and it was the same look Logan gave to Kurt now.

Only this time, it wasn't reciprocated.

And Derek had a hard feeling that Logan was only going to get hurt if he kept this going. And as much as he loved Logan, he was not in the mood to pick up all of the pieces—_again_. Especially with everything else on his plate. He had tests and papers and practices with his boys and a scholarship to worry about…

"You know Logan, I don't even think you should send it."

"Why?" Logan asked.

"Because…I…I feel like you're fighting a losing battle with this guy! Blaine Anderson has Hummel wrapped around his midget little finger!" Derek exclaimed.

This didn't faze Logan in the slightest; on the contrary, he simply continued to gaze out the window towards Windsor house, "Yeah…that's true." He nodded, "But Blaine hasn't completely won him over," Logan stuck his chest out slightly. "I still have a chance."

Derek groaned loudly and Logan shot a pleading look at him, "I know my luck with Windsors hasn't always been the best—" at this, Derek scoffed and muttered a sarcastic 'no kidding' which earned a dagger glare from the prefect.

Logan continued, "But I just…have a feeling. Will—Will you please just do this for me? _Please_?"

Derek groaned but gave in, finding it useless to say no to his best friend when he looked so helpless, "Alright, fine. I'll do it." He smiled at Logan, his dark eyes gleaming, "Just—I want you to be careful, okay? Even though you're a pain in the ass, you're still my best friend," He grinned cheekily, "And if this guy hurts you, I'm not afraid to break his porcelain skin, you know."

Logan grinned so brightly that it was like he won the lottery (or got laid, which ever). "That won't be necessary D. Kurt wouldn't do something like that to me—or to anyone." He glanced back out the window towards Windsor as he imagined what Kurt was doing at that very moment, "He's perfect."

* * *

><p>"<em>He's perfect."<em>

Derek pulled a mocking face as he mimicked his friends' words, earning a hoot and a holler from Rodney and Grayson, who agreed to endure the journey to Windsor with Derek (well, not so much "agreed" as "eventually complied, after multiple threats of early morning practices for the rest of the year.")

Derek was a manly man—don't get him wrong—but knowing that the Brightman twins lived in Windsor house, and that they were always armed with some sort of mock weapon that would cause him irritation, did put him a little on edge.

And hey, a little bit of backup never hurt anyone. And Windsor's were dangerous, unpredictable, insane creatures. So he needed his boys.

"I can't believe you are actually doing this, Seigerson," Grayson said with a loud, long sigh of annoyance, running a hand through his long hair, "If it were me, I woulda said 'screw it'—nothing is worth having to go to _Windsor_!"

Derek shrugged, but Rodney chimed in, "Yeah man. I mean, friendship is one thing, and what you are doing for Logan is saint-like…but this is like jumping off of the plank willingly! If Grayson asked me to do this, I'd say hell no—with all due respect, Gray. I'd rather sit through Murdoch's class twice then subject myself to Windsor shenanigans."

At this Derek rolled his eyes and laughed, "You guys are so dramatic—I'm making a delivery, it's not like I'm walking to my death."

However, it did feel like that, especially with the ways Grayson and Rodney were acting, their eyes darting from side to side as they made the long trip across campus, as though they expected the Windsor's to ambush them before they even made it half way there. It was making Derek more nervous than he needed to be, and it made the whole thing more ridiculous. Honestly, Derek couldn't believe he had agreed either and he wish he hadn't. He could be doing homework right now, or doing extra credit for Biology—he needed to secure that A. He could have even fit in an extra jog around campus instead.

So why had he agreed again?

Logan's lovesick face flashed in front of him. Urgh. At times, Logan could be like a puppy dog. Pathetic, but impossible to resist.

Derek had to restrain from hitting his two teammates, as they continued to compare his action to digging his own grave and other things of the like.

"If I don't make it out alive, you can get my coin collection," Rodney said mockingly, swinging an arm around Derek's shoulder. "I know how much you love it."

"Don't talk like that Rod, you know I can't live without you!" Grayson made a dramatic sobbing noise.

"What if they have the paint guns again?" Rodney said, suddenly serious. He rubbed his chest with a grimace. "Those things hurt, man. And this shirt is new. Damn, D, if these Windsors mess up my Abercrombie and Fitch, you're paying."

Once they reached the door of the house, Derek turned around to face his two teammates, "Listen—unlike you, I actually have some self-control. So watch yourselves. If you get into a fight with these maniacs and get in trouble, I will make your life hell," he said this threateningly, and it earned eye rolls from the two boys

Derek nodded and turned around, knocking on the door as he did so, "Good. Just keep your mouth shut and everything will be fine." _Or so help me, Logan will never hear the end of the hell he put me through_, Derek thought to himself.

The door opened to reveal David Sullivan, a darker boy in Derek's year. He was a Warbler, and surprisingly, unlike the rest of Windsor, Derek didn't have a large problem with him. He hung around Blaine, which was annoying, but he was calm and often times held back the annoying little Asian from making a fool out of himself. By Windsor standards, he was pretty normal. Plus he had a girlfriend who Casey had known—supposedly she was really nice. Casey had even mentioned double dating before…well anyway.

"Hello, Derek." He said civilly.

"Hello, David," Derek managed to pull a fake smile onto his lips, and his hand gripped the envelope in his hand—a single reminder as to why he was there in the first place. "We were wondering where Hummel was."

Wes, the boy in Derek's French class, and that "annoying Asian," suddenly turned up next to his best friend. He crossed his arms, leaning against the door frame. "Upstairs, in his room. Why?" He said, giving a skeptical look to the athlete and his two cronies.

Derek resisted the urge to roll his eyes, yet he was amused by Wes' display of protectiveness. Silly Windsor's, always trying to act tougher than the clowns they were—only the twins were truly scary. "Logan wanted us to give him this," he lifted the envelope in the air, waving it in front of them.

Derek noticed the two boys eye it cautiously, and Wes frowned, taking the envelope out of Derek's hands skeptically.

"What's in this that you need a color guard with you?" He pointed to Grayson and Rodney, who glared at the Windsors. "Anthrax? To ensure the complete knockout of our entire in-house Warbler lineup? You already did get everyone when you put laxatives in our drinks before we could perform A Very Potter Musical and steamroller you last year, but with Kurt here…"

Derek's smirk stayed plastered on his face, but he felt irritation brew in his core. _Really? Is that how he is going to do this? Well if that's the case…_

"No," Derek said coolly, "actually, it's chunk of C4 to get back at you people for replacing our centennial sculpture's head with the head of the Pillsbury Dough Boy." At the Windsor's look of displeasure, he grunted. "No, I'm afraid it's a present. Why Logan would have any more interest in someone from Windsor, though…" He rolled his eyes.

"You jealous, Derek?" Derek snapped his head towards Wes, who was smirking arrogantly, "No, honest question. Worried about competition after having Logan all to yourself since he chased away his last Windsor conquest? Thanks for breaking his heart, by the way—we were so happy when second lead soloist moved away—"

Derek took a deep breath, his fists clenching in aggravation. Oh yeah, Wes was definitely annoying. He managed to get right under Derek's skin. Grayson took note of this and placed a cautious hand on his shoulder, slightly squeezing to remind Derek to keep his cool. Derek shook his head and scoffed, "Wow, you really think you're funny—" Derek hissed and took a threatening step towards the Warbler.

He was suddenly taken aback by the yell of another boy. Derek backed up to gain a better look at the pale boy, and recognized him as Dwight Houston. He knew Dwight was a year younger than him, and that he was quite…_weird_—so he was surprised when he put himself in the middle of him and Wes.

"Whoah!" The odd boy exclaimed, "Now, now. Everyone keep calm and I won't have to spray you." He paused to look at Derek with a hectic look, "Past is past, what's done is done. And nothing was ever proved. As far as we're concerned, we're all innocent. Let's not throw accusations all over again. Nothing's happened this school year, right? It's a giant clean slate. We're still all good?"

Derek and Wes shared a glance, and the latter smiled harshly, "Nothing's happened…yet."

"I'm sure if anything does, it's from you pranksters," Derek returned sharply, nodding toward the interior or the house. "Seriously? A bonfire in the middle of the night for the newbie, with all the dry leaves everywhere? His voice is fantastic, but I don't think it's worth setting fire to campus. This is not an episode of Jackass." He snapped sarcastically.

"Why can't you all get along outside of Warblers' Hall the way you do inside?" Derek's attention was averted to Dwight again, who pouted.

"Derek's not even a Warbler, Dwight," Wes said.

Derek rolled his eyes, annoyed at the banter between the housemates, "Whatever," he snapped, "Can we not do this? I'd like to pass midterms with a clean student record." _Not only that, but I'd like to get to the next regatta without a trip to the dean's office. _He shuddered at the thought, and how it would reflect on his chances for the scholarship. Right. The scholarship. He needed to work tirelessly if he wanted to achieve it. He didn't need these Windsors and Logan's drama ruining it for him. He prepared himself to go, his patience for the day all worn out—David echoed his thoughts.

"You may leave now," He said sharply, with a taut, icy look on his face. "We'll give Logan's regards to Kurt," he finished.

Derek sighed and nodded, "Why thank you, David." _The only reasonable one in that whole damn place. _

With that, Derek turned around to face Grayson and Rodney, who both nodded and turned around and headed away from Windsor without a glance back. Derek followed them, keeping his head high, so happy to have his stupid errand for Logan out of the way. Now that it was done, he truly wondered why he had agreed, when he knew it would be nothing but hell. He wasn't Logan's lapdog, after all. Didn't he have more pride than that? Next time—next time he wouldn't do it. Logan would have to brave the battlefield his own damn self.

Once they were out of earshot of the troublemakers, Rodney whispered to Derek, "You alright man? Things got sort of heated back there."

Derek nodded curtly, "I'm fine. Those Windsor's are just…impossible to deal with."

Grayson agreed, "I know man. It sucks Logan made you deal with them like this." He paused, "Though I mean, maybe it was best if he didn't go over there."

Derek scoffed, "Why is that? Actually, I was just thinking that I'd make him do it himself next time. I'm not a mailman. I have things to do."

Grayson shrugged, "Yeah, but…well there's that fencing meet today. Windsor versus Stuart. Things are already heated with us as it is, but if Logan went…things would have been much worse, don't you think?"

Derek blinked rapidly—the fencing meet! He had completely forgotten that it was today. A rush of guilt took over him. He always hated it when Logan couldn't remember about his football games or regatta meets, and here he had forgotten about Logan's own battle…and he would be facing off of Blaine. Maybe that's why he was so intense this morning.

"Yeah, Logan would probably have been murdered over there," murmured Derek, breathing out slowly and shoving his hands in his pocket.

"I hope he can get his head out of this new kid's ass and into the game," Rodney commented. "We really can't lose to Windsor. Not after that."

"Logan's awesome, he should be fine," Grayson shot back quickly.

"But he's on meds—"

"Both of you, just…shut up," grumbled Derek. Urgh. What a way to start the day. His head pounded and he couldn't get over how guilty he found in regards to Logan—and now his teammates were getting on Logan's case. Even Derek, though, deep down, doubted Logan's skill. Did he really have what it took to defeat Blaine? If he didn't, it wouldn't help his already shaky track record with the house. He needed to start the school year off right.

Derek shook his head at himself. If his teammates could hear his thoughts aloud, they would laugh and say he was more concerned about Logan than his own mother.

The sad thing was that was true.

"Come on guys, let's get back to Stuart," Derek sped up his pace. "We might as well get pumped for the match too."

Logan would need all the support he could get.

* * *

><p>The match hadn't started by the time Derek, Grayson, and Rodney had arrived. Derek nodded to the bleachers and tapped Rodney on his shoulder,<p>

"You guys should go and get seats—I'm gunna go and see if I can find our _lovely_ prefect and give him a pep talk."

The two other boys nodded and Grayson patted Derek's shoulder, "Good luck trying to find him. You think his meds will affect his game?" Grayson asked nervously, scratching the back of his neck and giving Rodney a wary glance.

Derek grunted, "Not sure. Guess I'll find out, won't I?"

Both boys nodded and headed towards the bleachers and Derek turned on his heel, heading for the bench where the fencers sat.

Derek spotted the blond Warbler as he adjusted his fencing gloves, and he had to smile, admitting to himself that he liked seeing Logan prepping for some ass-kicking. As he made his way over, something, or rather, _someone_ caught his eye.

Derek stopped dead in his tracks as he saw her enter the arena.

_Her_.

Her brown hair was longer than he had remembered, but that didn't matter—Derek would always recognize that face.

The horrifyingly beautiful face of Casey Lambert that still haunted his dreams.

He frowned at her presence, but that frown turned to a horrid sneer of disgust and outrage when he saw whose arm she was pressing firmly too.

His eyes narrowed at Wes Hughes as he smiled at Casey. The girl returned the smile and the pair moved to take a seat in the bleachers across from where Derek saw Grayson and Rodney had taken their seats.

Derek balled his hands into fists so hard his knuckles turned white. _What is she doing here? And more, what the fuck is she doing here with Wes?_

He forgot about Logan and started to walk back towards the bleachers when a sudden, high pitched squeal got his attention.

Derek felt the wind being knocked out of him as he felt a pair of small arms wrap around his neck; a familiar scent of floral perfume washed over him and he took a deep breath, instantly recognizing who it was that was holding him. Tabitha.

He wrapped his arms around her easily, as if she was another one of the random girls he hooked up with on occasion.

"Hey Derek," she pulled away from him, but making sure her arms stayed firm around his neck.

"Hey, you." He smiled easily at her and he let his hand graze her waist—a simple touch, but it drove girls wild. He knew from experience. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Tabitha shrugged and linked her fingers with his, "I came to watch the match," she paused and smirked. "And to see you?"

He grinned, "Oh yeah?" He raised an eyebrow and cast a quick glance to Casey, who was still sitting next to Wes. Suddenly, their eyes met, and Derek felt the pit of his stomach drop.

Derek knew Casey was pissed at him for what happened the night everything went terribly wrong, but instead of seeing anger in her eyes, he saw something else—was it regret? Pity? Maybe even disappointment? Whatever the case may be, it made Derek feel like an insignificant piece of crap. However, he wasn't going to let her see she still had this effect on him. He couldn't. He was a man—a damn attractive one at that. As shitty as it may seem, he had to live up to his expectations.

Besides, he and Casey were over. She didn't care for him anymore—she was through with him.

It didn't matter that Derek still dreamt about her. It didn't matter that he regretted ever…doing what he did the night Casey broke up with him. It didn't matter because she didn't care. No matter how much he _did_.

Derek continued to eye her until the presence of Tabitha underneath his arm grabbed his attention. Tabitha wrapped an arm around his waist, and he snapped his head back to face her, giving her an award winning smile.

"Watcha looking at?" She asked, leaning forward to see what could be holding his gaze.

Derek could still feel Casey's gaze on him, but why should he care? She certainly didn't.

"Nothing, babe." He smiled at her again and leaned down to capture her lips in his. The kiss was meaningless to him, yet it was long and looked passionate to any outsider. Tabitha gripped his hair and Derek grasped at her hips possessively, aggressively, growling into her mouth.

All thoughts of Casey temporarily vanished from Derek's mind as he felt Tabitha's tongue swipe over his bottom lip. Though the kiss meant nothing to him, he secretly wished it meant everything to Casey, as he hoped the public display of affection would make her slightly jealous.

But at the same time, he knew he needed to forget her. Being single and not hooking up with anyone gave Derek's mind more time to mull over his and Casey's falling out…which is something he did _not_ need.

So, he gave his mind something else to think about.

Whether it be just a random hookup, a date every night, or an actual girlfriend, like Tabitha—he needed something else to occupy his mind so he didn't go completely insane thinking about how badly he fucked up and all of the regrets that went with it.

Tabitha may not be the brightest girl, or the most calm—but she was hot as hell, and was willing to get it on in public places and would probably obey his every command. Like right now—grabbing her for an impromptu kiss to her was probably romantic, but to him it was something to ease his mind after seeing Casey.

Derek knew kissing Tabitha to rid his mind of someone else was wrong, but he needed the distraction. And she was the perfect one.

When they broke apart, it seemed as though others had started watching them, and Derek felt his cheeks redden. Tabitha smiled and tugged his hand.

"Come on," She nodded to the bleachers where Rodney and Grayson were, "Those are your friends, aren't they? Let's go sit with them? You know…" She shot her eyes up suggestively, "We can continue this later… _behind_ the bleachers, if you want."

Derek smirked and he felt Tabitha grip his hand as they passed the bleachers where Casey and Wes were sitting. Casey looked up at them and Derek winced when Tabitha shot a glare to the pair. Derek had to tear his eyes from the ground to look up at them. His eyes moved past Wes quickly and went straight to Casey, who was piercing him with a look that could kill.

He frowned and looked away, unable to hold the gaze for too long and continued to walk away with Tabitha to the bleachers.

Most of the game went on and seemed like a blur for Derek, who couldn't stop thinking about Casey, and the painful look she had given him.

* * *

><p>Cal peered around a large trunk of a tree, his eyes focusing on the figure doing tireless movements by the shore of the lake.<p>

Cal couldn't help but frown when he saw Jon Eagen (who everyone thought was confident of his sport) break down during his practices. Yeah, Jon was a complete asshole, but assholes had feelings, and expectations of themselves. And when those expectations weren't met, their world falls apart.

And that's what Cal felt like he was witnessing. And, oddly enough, it hurt him to see him so…_vulnerable_.

Jon threw his oar harshly onto the ground, muttering curses under his breath. He stood up and walked away from the boat, fisting his hair and pulling it at its ends. Jon was frustrated, and Cal knew he shouldn't approach him under any circumstances.

But that didn't stop him.

"Problem, Eagen?"

Jon froze at Cal's charming voice and turned around on his heel, wiping a few strands of brown hair out of his eyes. His cold expression turned to one of mild content and relief and he smiled stiffly,

"Not at all, Morrel." Jon muttered through gritted teeth, though he was trying not to show Cal he was displeased with himself.

Cal raised an amused eyebrow, seeing through Jon's act right away. He picked up the thrown oar. He looked from the boat to Jon, and then back to the oar, "I saw you throw the oar. Why did you—"

"It was nothing." Jon snapped, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Didn't seem like nothing to me." Cal continued, "What's the problem?"

Jon dragged a hand down his face and took a deep breath, looking down at his hands. He shook his head and gave a defeated sigh, letting his shoulders slump forward,

"My hands—my wrists. They…something's _wrong_. I can't get them to do what I want."

Cal smiled softly, but hid it quickly from Jon as he walked slowly towards him, reaching out to hold his wrists. His warm hands touched Jon's smooth skin, and Jon flinched a little. Cal gripped his wrists lightly, letting his thumb brush over the skin. He lifted his wrists up and turned them harshly, earning a slight wince from Jon.

"See?" Cal said, pointing to the angle of his wrist, "You have to keep your wrist strong—like this, see— if you want the stroke to be strong. Didn't I tell you to—"

"Yes," Jon snapped, his eyes locking with Cal's, his cold stare piercing through the Cox, "I know what you told me," He lowered his voice to a whisper, almost embarrassed to speak the words, "Don't you think I've been trying to do what you tell me? You're a smart guy, Cal, I'd be stupid not to trust you. I just can't do this."

Cal rolled his eyes and dropped Jon's wrist, "Yes you can, Eagen. Stop being such a woman and get your head into it!" He lifted the oar again and shoved it into Cal's hand. Jon stared at it and Cal took a deep breath,

"What's the problem?"

Jon shrugged, "There's no point in doing it if I fucking can't."

Cal glared at him, _but inside he was extremely surprised_. Yeah, the kid was an ass, but he didn't think he was a quitter. In fact, Cal always thought of Jon as the type to never give up. The fact that Jon was out here on the lake practicing was evidence of that.

"Since when have you ever thought you couldn't do anything, huh?" Cal said.

Jon simply glared at him, "Don't you have something better to do than pick apart my personality?" he paused, "Actually, isn't that fencing meet today? Shouldn't you be throwing your Pom Poms up for your house?"

Cal grunted and shrugged, "I guess, but I'd rather be here instead—"

"Well aren't I _lucky_—?"

"Whipping your ass into shape—"

"Who said I needed whipping—?"

"So you don't mess things up for our regatta!"

Jon swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, but immediately shook it away—how dare Cal assume he would be the one to mess up the regatta?

Even though he had the same thought himself?

"How dare you say that to me? You may know your shit, Cal. But you don't know a damn fucking thing about me. And you sure as hell aren't out on the boat rowing you ass off—"

"Well maybe," Cal said, trying not to let his sudden frustration get the best of him, "if you weren't an ass all of the time, people wouldn't assume the worst of you."

Jon laughed coldly, shaking his head at Cal, "I already know what people think of me, and to be frank, I don't really _care_ if they think I'm a good person or not."

Cal, though he should expect nothing less, was utterly shocked when he actually heard the words from Jon. He knew Jon didn't care about other people and only cared about himself, but to hear him say it…it was almost hard to believe.

"I think you do care, you're just afraid to show it." Cal said softly.

Jon scoffed and leaned into Cal almost threateningly, their noses mere inches from each other, "And why do you think that?"

Cal, getting a sudden wave of confidence, cocked up an eyebrow, "Because you don't want people seeing a susceptible side to you."

"That's bullshit." Jon said defensively

This time Cal had to laugh, and muttered, "That is so something you would say." He sighed dejectedly and straightened his tie, looking at Jon straight in the eyes.

"You can be a good person, Jon," Cal said. "But if you keep up this douchebag act you like to play, no one is ever going to see that."

"That's because there is nothing to see." Jon grumbled.

"Why the hell do you want us to hate you so much?" Cal lifted his chin. "Don't tell me you get kicks and giggles out of being the asshole on Crew."

"I told you already. I don't give a shit about what you people think about me. Unlike a lot of you, I actually care about this sport, you know. I care a lot. This is _my life_," Jon hissed.

"Yeah, I know, _Mr. Olympics_," Cal rolled his eyes. "But just because the rest of us aren't up for gold medals doesn't mean we don't care—"

"Well you don't care as much as me—"

"See, I think you're wrong," Cal's voice grew softer again and he lifted his shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. "I wouldn't be out here if I didn't."

"Shut up, Morrell," Jon growled, tightening his grip on the oar. He turned away from Cal, taking a moment to glance at the boat. Without making eye contact, he spoke sternly,

"You can leave now."

Cal scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest, "What makes you think I'm going to leave?"

Jon gave him a surprised, yet intrigued look, his eyes glinting with sudden interest, "Because I don't want you here."

"Well tough, I'm not leaving until you get your stroke back in order," Cal walked over to a nearby bench, where he plopped down, swung his legs up and stretched them out , letting his backpack be a temporary pillow and folding his arms over his head. He gave Jon a sarcastic smile,

"Well, get to it, then."

Jon stared blankly at Cal. To be frank, Jon was quite shocked at Cal's new wave of confidence. It was something he had never seen before, and he was quite positive no one else at Dalton had seen it, either. Morrell was always such an easygoing guy—a pushover, actually. The only time he ever asserted himself was on the water, and even then, it was all technical shit that any smart guy could rattle off. No, this was new. This confidence was coming from a place that even Cal probably didn't know. It was intriguing to Jon, and he felt suddenly drawn to it, drawn to Cal. Jon needed to figure this guy out, somehow or someway—figure out what made him tick."

He stopped himself. _What are you doing, Eagen?_ He forced himself to look at a smirking Cal, who was looking at him expectantly.

Jon sighed. He couldn't let himself get attached, especially to _Morrel_—he had a plan. And with that plan, he needed to follow through. Jon knew what he had to do. He let his eyes linger on Cal's laying form and smirked, an idea forming into his mind.

Yes, he could definitely use this boy to his advantage.

He stood up straight, groaned, turning back around towards the boat, only to hide the smile forming across his lips,

"Fine," Jon spat, "You can stay. Just…don't speak too much and don't interrupt me."

Cal nodded, "Fine."

Cal smiled to himself as he watched Jon crawl back into the boat and begin his strokes. He was proud of himself for sticking up to Jon. He really had no idea what came over him—if it were anyone else, he would probably have crawled back into his shell and let the person walk all over him, like everyone else did.

And with Jon, he was surprised he didn't let that happen. So why had he stood up to him? Why had he even bothered to care? Why did he even _try_?

He continued to watch the Hanover and he shook his head. They had a regatta to win, and Cal wasn't going to let anyone, not even the resident tool of the team, stop their team from achieving that.

But there was also something to Jon that Cal couldn't put his finger on. Something that made Cal want to stay and help Jon.

And he wasn't sure what that was… but he certainly wanted to find out.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe I lost. To Blaine <em>fucking<em> Anderson." Logan kicked the coffee table in front of him, making his irritation known to the other Stuarts, who were trying to calm him down.

Derek rolled his eyes and sighed, shooting Logan an aggravated look—now he understood what Logan meant when he said Derek became, "A whiny ass bitch" whenever he lost a game and started to complain.

It was incredibly annoying.

"It's alright, Wright," Grayson said, patting Logan on the shoulder sympathetically, "You fought well."

"I fought like shit!" Logan groaned, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

"Here! Have some coffee!" A frantic voice spoke out from the crowd of Stuarts that surrounded Logan and a random hand with a coffee cup stuck out in front of Logan's face.

Logan rolled his eyes and pushed it away, but replaced by the coffee cup was a Political Science text book, and another Stuart was flipping through the pages right in front of Logan's face,

"Here Logan, smell the textbook pages. _Smell them_. That should make you feel better—"

Logan hit the textbook out of the boys' hands, not even slightly flinching when the heavy book made contact with the wood floor, causing the room to echo.

Logan stood up and Derek followed suit, placing a protective hand on his shoulder, "What is the matter with all of you!" Logan exclaimed, "Just, get out of my sight and out of ear shot before I do something I regret."

The boarders of Stuart didn't need to be told twice—they bolted in all different types of directions, trying to make sure they didn't make eye contact with Logan as they fled the room, following through with his demands.

Logan sighed and dragged a hand down his face, and he sat back down on the couch. He let his head fall into his hands had he pulled his hair at its ends. Derek laughed softly and sat down next to him,

"Why do these things happen to me?" Logan drawled.

Derek shrugged, "It happens to the best of us." He nodded.

Logan laughed, "Not to you."

"Yeah, well, I'm flawless."

Logan chuckled slightly; however, his laugh didn't fool Derek into thinking that he was feeling any better. Derek leaned his hands on his thighs and stood up, earning an odd glance from Logan.

"You," Derek said, pointing to the blonde, "seem like you could use a drink."

"I highly doubt alcohol can cure the level of inadequacy I feel at the moment…" Logan returned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Derek scoffed, "Oh come on! Since when have you ever felt inadequate? And compared to _Anderson_? Please! You have at _least_ three feet on him! Come on; let me make you a drink,"

Logan groaned as he reluctantly leaned back into the couch, listening to Derek bustle around the kitchen and into the private stash. Logan exhaled deeply as he heard a few pots and pans clatter to the ground—though Logan had to grin at the comment made from a boarder on the top floor, ("Oi! This isn't _Windsor_, keep it down in there!").

After Logan heard the blender whirl a few times and sink turn on and off, Derek emerged from the kitchen carrying two cups. He grinned as he set one down on the coffee table, handing one over to Logan,

"Drink. _Now_." The athlete demanded.

Logan rolled his eyes and took a drink, shuddering after the liquid touched his lips. The drink was plain awful. The more the thought about what just entered his system, the more he wanted to throw up. He swallowed the sip, however, and pinched his nose again, "Jesus Der. What is _in_ that?" He demanded, trying hard not to gag.

Derek grinned and took a larger gulp of his drink, obviously enjoying the taste and flaunting his higher tolerance for it, "If I told you, you wouldn't drink it. Just relax, buddy. This is supposed to be helping you. Just forget about Blaine and your fencing match and get drunk with me," Derek took another sip and leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes.

Logan rolled his eyes and took another sip—he knew if he didn't, Derek would force feed it to him, so he might as well have the chance to drink it at his own pace.

The boys continued to drink in silence, until finally, Derek's ringtone went off. Surprised, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, laughing as he saw the name that was flashing on his caller ID. He answered the call, smirking as he spoke into the phone.

"Hey diva, how's the limelight treating you?"

Logan heard a faint, muffled voice come from Derek's phone, and he let out a sigh of relief as he realized who had called.

_Julian. _

"Hey, hey Derek," Logan said, suddenly feeling light headed as he reached over for Derek's phone, "Let me talk to him!"

Derek laughed at the slightly buzzed Logan, "I'll just put him on speaker—hang on—okay—Julian," He asked, lifting his phone up to his lips, "Can—can you hear me now?"

The voice on the other end of the line laughed, "What is this—a Verizon Wireless commercial? Yes, I can hear you. How are things in the hell hole over there?"

Derek laughed, "Good question, why don't you ask Mr. Sore Loser over here?" Derek handed the phone to Logan, who snatched it out of his hand,

"I am not a sore loser!" He exclaimed before putting the phone up to his lips, "Juuulian?" He slurred.

"You lose a match today, Princess?" Julian asked.

Derek laughed out loud as this. "Yeah, he did! How'd you know?"

"Like it's a surprise? I'm highly attuned to Logan's pitiful whining by now, Derek; all he had to do was say my name."

Logan frowned and ignored them both with his own grumble, "To what do we owe the pleasure, Diva?"

"What?" Julian asked, mocking an offended tone, "Can't a guy call his two best friends just to catch up?"

"No," Derek returned, not missing a beat.

"A guy can, but _you_ don't," Logan pointed out.

Julian gave a frustrated sigh on his end, "I love the amount of faith you guys have in me. Really, it warms my heart," he said sarcastically.

Derek smirked, and projected his voice, "It should. It's not often we express that kind of affection for someone—especially someone who is never here." A pause. "Speaking of which, when do you plan on coming back?"

Julian stayed silent for a moment, and for a second, Derek thought they had lost signal, but then he spoke, "What fun would it be if I told you when I was coming back? Doesn't that ruin the surprise?"

"I hate surprises," Logan muttered.

"More of a reason to give you one, then!" Julian said, the boys knowing his trademark smirk was probably dancing across his lips as he spoke.

Logan rolled his eyes and leaned back against the couch, "When did you become such an ass?" He responded, which earned a laugh from Julian.

"When you decided to be a brat," Julian said easily. When Logan didn't answer, Julian continued, "So, Lo, who did you lose the match to?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Logan snapped.

"Ooh, touchy... Derek, care to tell?" Julian asked.

"He lost to Anderson. _Blaine _Anderson."

Julian snorted "Ooh. Battle of the Exes," he paused. "But how did you lose to him in the first place? Lo, you're ten feet taller than him."

Derek laughed, "Isn't it true that the short ones are always quicker on their feet—?"

"You guys!" Logan exclaimed, rubbing his temples, "Please. No more short jokes. Do we have to do this _right now_?"

"While you're almost intoxicated? Abso-fucking-lutely." Derek took another sip of his drink.

"It pains me you decide to drink at a time I am not around," Julian whined, "The one time Logan is almost drunk, and I can't be there to make use of my digital camera!"

Logan groaned, "I hate you so—"

There was distant voices coming from the phone, and both Logan and Derek knew that their phone conversation would be cut short by the Something Damaged cast coming to retrieve Julian. Derek watched as Logan's face screwed up into a grimace, and the blond grabbed a pillow and chucked it across the room.

Julian sighed, "I gotta—"

"Go. Yeah. We know," Logan practically growled. "Fine. Run along, play Hollywood."

"Thaw out, Ice Queen," Julian shot back.

"Why don't you come and make me?" Logan snatched the phone out of Derek's hands, but it was too late; Julian had hung up, once again whisked away by his other life and his other "friends." Derek watched Logan carefully as the different emotions went by on his face and he dropped the phone on the couch, but he couldn't pinpoint anything specific. He just knew that Logan was definitely more pissed off than he was.

Why wasn't he more pissed off at Julian anyway? He should be; the damn diva hadn't given them more than five minutes of his time lately, calling spontaneously and usually when the time wasn't all that good. But tonight, he was really needed. Logan was feeling shitty and for a little while they had been together again. Sure, Julian wasn't actually in the room, but it was as close as it was going to get until he decided to come back. Derek picked up his phone and pocketed it, wishing he was just more than annoyed. The sad thing was that the reason he wasn't mad—if he was honest—was because this just happened too often.

Oh well. That was all in the past. Another day done—he had bigger issues a.k.a Logan Wright the Third.

"Get me more drink, Derek!" The prefect demanded harshly. "If I'm gonna get drunk, I want to get drunk fast."

Derek shook his head but went to the kitchen, his mind flashing images of Casey at the fencing match. He felt his heart drop and he swallowed thickly as guilt once again took over.

Yeah, he definitely could use that drink too.


End file.
